Headmaster Bradley glanced over the stack of missives in front of him. He felt as pleased as he could be during work hours. The crest of the Eastern University of Military Application shone in the overhead lighting, and the green and gold dragon seemed to wink up at him. He was finally getting rid of Roy Mustang - a year early, no less - and Bradley practically oozed satisfaction. He decided he could feel a bit prideful as well. After all, it had been his brilliant idea to bring Berthold Hawkeye into the academy fold, and without that close tutelage, Mustang would likely be nothing but a blip in the athletic department.
Central Amestris Academy had churned out several State Alchemists over the years, but everyone knew Doctor Hawkeye's skills were singular. Mustang was the closest thing to an apprentice as the law allowed, and Bradley was eager to take the credit that would come along with his state certification. Elemental alchemy wasn't exactly new. Several years prior, Isaac McDougal employed ice, and the Armstrong boy, Alex, had a proficiency with earth and stone, but Hawkeye had a way with fire. Flames were regal and respectable. And fearsome.
The academy would be losing three students to the university before they saw the graduation stage. Alex and Olivier Armstrong and Mustang. The rarity of a student unaffiliated with alchemy being accepted to the university early was well known, but Olivier Armstrong displayed cunning intelligence, and it was clear she'd be groomed for leadership. Bradley thought it a disappointment Maes Hughes had declined to apply despite his generous offer for a personal recommendation. With a disgusted curl of his lip, Bradley suspected the decision had something to do with the female student, Gracia Munoz. Hughes could be seen at any time between classes positively doting on the girl. An egregious waste, in his opinion. Another stunning loss for the military was Riza Hawkeye. Her shoulder injury stood in the way of any career involving strenuous physical activity of the upper body. He'd looked over her medical records himself and came to the same conclusion as the vetting committee: despite her impeccable eyesight and aim, she wasn't fit for service.
Bradley sifted through the applications one last time before nodding to himself. He was required to interview each student personally prior to submitting the packets, and the process was tedious. The Armstrong children's family name spoke for itself, and he had no desire to spend any private moments conversing with Roy Mustang.
He stood from his desk and straightened his blazer. The end of the school year couldn't arrive soon enough, and winter break only served to remind him how right his wife's insistence on retirement had been. Mornings spent at home were far preferable to endless days at a desk dictating the lives of teenagers. Perhaps he'd make that move sooner rather than later.
Roy inwardly groaned when Jean Havoc plopped himself into the chair next to him. The academy administrative offices bustled with morning activity, and he'd been perfectly happy staring at the ceiling tiles and avoiding the sharp gaze of Olivier Armstrong until Havoc interrupted his train of thought.
"Are you waiting for the headmaster too, Jean?" Alex Armstrong's voice boomed from across the walkway.
Havoc laughed, and Roy bristled. "Nope. I'm just here to make sure Coach Hakuro saved me a spot on the spring track team."
"Military life isn't for you, Havoc?" Olivier's voice dripped with sarcasm.
"No way. My dad would have a shitfit. He expects me to handle the family business and all that. If I told him I wanted to pick up a gun and march around the country, I'd be disowned."
"Well, we can't have that, can we? Civilians all need cars sold to them with a smile, I suppose."
Roy glanced at Olivier who sneered at Havoc.
"Not all of us were born into families who don't have to try very hard anymore, Armstrong." Havoc's tone was light, but Roy felt the animosity. He didn't want to be on the same side as Jean in any argument though, he did agree that the Armstrongs could be unbearably elitist.
"It's called pedigree, Havoc. Maybe in a century, your family will have a flickering of it." She primly smoothed her skirt, despite there being no visible wrinkles.
Headmaster Bradley appeared in the doorway of his office and eyed the group of students with his usual disgust. "Olivier Armstrong, please come with me."
Olivier smiled icily and disappeared behind the wooden door bearing the headmaster's gold name plate. Roy closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall in his chair. Of course, she would be first. No sense in hoping he'd be relieved of Havoc's presence so quickly.
"How was your break, Mustang? Not trying to kiss Hakuro's ass, I see."
"No," Roy clipped.
"Still hate me, huh?" Jean laughed. "My nose is fine, by the way. My dad threatened to bill you for the damage if you'd broken it."
"Lucky me."
"What I can't figure is why you attacked me in the first place." Havoc's tone indicated he knew damn well why Roy had hit him. "You're finally free to act on your incredibly obvious crush on Riza."
Roy's hands tightened into fists. "Shut up, Havoc."
"Everyone knows about you two now. What's the big deal?" Roy did his best to tune him out. "It's not like I broke her heart or anything."
"Is it impossible for you to just shut up? Ever?"
"Are you mad because I had her first? Because I've got news for you, Mustang, Riza isn't a girl to be had."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Roy opened his eyes and looked over at Havoc.
"Just that you can't take from her; she gives. I never had her."
Alex shifted in his chair, looking very uncomfortable.
"I know Riza better than you ever will, and I'd never assume to have her." Roy glared at Jean.
"Listen, Mustang, there's no reason for you to harbor all this hatred towards me. I mean, feel free to keep at it, if that's what gets you off, but I'm over it. Riza and I had a good time while it lasted, but I never told myself any lies about how things would end."
Roy's eyes widened, and he did his best to grasp at his anger. He didn't want to give Havoc any credit. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Jean barked out a laugh. "You're about as dense as a bank safe, Mustang. Everyone has known since we were kids that you and Riza were endgame. She just let me play in her sandbox for a while, and now that's over. I don't have the energy to keep hanging on to bullshit pissing contests. I've got to reserve my testosterone for handling my dad."
Roy opened his mouth to reply, but Bradley's office door swung open. Olivier marched out; the air around her glowed with smugness.
"Alex, come into my office please," the headmaster called from within. Alex glanced at his sister, who spared him nothing as she glided out of the offices. When the door closed again, Roy turned to Jean.
"I'm sorry for hitting you." His words shocked even himself, but if he ignored Havoc's olive branch, he'd look like an asshole. There really wasn't a reason to keep on hating him. "I just thought-"
"Yeah, I know what you thought. I'm not that type of guy." Jean held out his hand, and Roy took it. "We don't have to be best friends or anything, but I'd rather not leave things in a bad place. I know you won't be around next year."
"Listen, I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that around, okay? My intentions aren't exactly public knowledge."
Havoc's eyes widened like saucers. "Oh my god, you haven't told her?" He shook his head solemnly. "Good luck with that. I won't say anything, but you definitely should."
Roy leaned forward and hid his face in his hands. "I know, I know. I never meant for things to get so out of hand. I-"
"Havoc! Get in here!" Coach Hakuro's voice interrupted him sharply, and Jean placed a hand on Roy's shoulder in solidarity before leaving him alone in the hallway. It wasn't more than a few moments before Alex strode from Bradley's office, smiling. The door slammed shut behind him, and Roy was made to wait for longer than he felt necessary.
"Roy Mustang, please join me in my office," the headmaster finally called. Roy entered the office and sat in the chair closest to the door. "Well, Mister Mustang, it seems you'll be leaving us soon."
"I hope so, sir."
Bradley folded his fingers together and glared at him from behind them. "I assume you're working diligently to complete your essays despite Doctor Hawkeye's absence?"
"Yes, sir, he left me a number of notes and instructions. I'm nearly finished."
"It's a shame he left us before he could see you through."
Roy looked down between his knees. His shoelaces were untied, and he frowned. "It is. I miss him quite a bit."
"Death is the most natural part of life, Mustang. It happens to us all. Fortunately for you, his association will speak well of your application."
"I suppose."
"I'm choosing to leave your altercation with Jean Havoc out of your permanent record." Roy's eyes snapped up to the headmaster. "Don't assume this is a personal favor due to any affection I hold toward you. I assure you I have none. I simply want you out of my hair and believe your talents would be best served under the much stricter care of the military."
"Sir-" Roy began.
Bradley held up a silencing hand. "No need for empty words of thanks, Mustang. Your departure is best for everyone. All I ask is that you don't waste all the hard work Hawkeye put into you or tarnish the good name of this institution. Make your country proud."
"Of course, sir."
"You're dismissed." Bradley stood and handed him the thick, white envelope with the military university crest embossed on the front. Roy took it and slid it into his bag. He didn't manage to make it all the way out of the administrative suite before tripping over his untied laces.
Roy's bedroom lacked the space for all of the boxes of Doctor Hawkeye's research materials, and Riza wasn't opposed to him storing them in one of her guest bedrooms. He'd been spending his afternoons shut away and feverishly working on his application essays. If Riza had any ideas as to what he was doing, she didn't comment. He could often hear her talking to herself in the kitchen. She had a habit of reading her debate positions out loud and pacing the tiled floors for hours at a time.
He felt guilty for continuing to keep his application a secret from her but hated to broach the subject of his departure. East City was several hours away, and his breaks while there would be few and far between. Roy didn't doubt her ability to function alone; Riza wasn't as needy as himself and had bounced back from her father's death with a determination that made him love and admire her even more. He suspected his trepidation was more rooted in his own apprehensions. With a frustrated sigh, he gathered his essays and left the bedroom.
"...and furthermore, this repression of alchemical practice from civilians lends an unfair balance of power toward the military, leaving the impression that-"
Roy leaned against the kitchen door frame and cleared his throat.
She turned and smiled. "Oh, hey, Roy. Are you done up there for now?"
"For now. I need a break and a change of scenery."
"Going home then? I think I'm done here, as well. My brain hurts."
"Not yet, I just get tired of the bedroom. The couch is calling to me." He grinned and held out a hand. She took it and leaned up to kiss his jaw.
"I see. Well, I'll join you. Solaris will be here in a little bit to take over the kitchen, and I need to unwind before grandfather arrives for dinner."
Roy settled onto the couch, and Riza stretched out across its length, her bare legs draped over his lap. He spread the file folder over them and scanned through his work. Several mistakes caught his eye, and with a red pen, he marked them for later correction.
"Roy." Riza's foot nudged his thigh.
"Hm?"
"You're doing that thing."
He glanced over, but her face was hidden behind a magazine. "What thing?"
"The thing where you whisper when you read to yourself."
"Sorry," he mumbled and returned to his proofreading. Several minutes passed before she nudged him again.
"You're still doing it."
"I am not. I think you're imagining things."
She turned a page loudly. "No, you're definitely doing the thing. It's distracting."
Roy looked at her again and watched as she lifted a knee and leaned it against the back of the couch. "You know what else is distracting? Your legs. They're on me, and I can't concentrate."
Riza made no reply. She only bounced her leg against the cushion, and he scowled when her uniform skirt rode up her thigh.
"Are you doing that on purpose? Because I can see your panties now."
"Oh really? What color are they then?" She continued to keep the magazine in front of her face, as if completely oblivious to his irritation.
"I'm a gentleman, Riza. I won't lower myself to your outrageous flirting."
She snorted and turned another page.
"You are doing it on purpose!"
Riza finally tossed the magazine aside and folded her arms behind her head. "What are you going to do about it?"
Roy's mouth twisted into a feral grin, and he carefully placed his work on a side table. He grasped her leg and held it to his side as he placed a knee between them and crawled over her body.
"I think maybe you should be taught a lesson in distractions."
"I doubt your qualifications to instruct such a course." She turned her head away from him haughtily, and Roy trailed his fingertips over the skin of her thigh. Despite her nonchalance, he could see her chest rising and falling quicker than before. He latched his mouth to the expanse of her neck and knew he'd scored a point when her fingers feathered through his hair.
Her legs hitched around his waist, and he nudged the hem of her camisole out of his way with one hand. The skin of her stomach was soft, and he enjoyed the feel of her fluttering breaths. Roy flicked his tongue over her neck, and she shuddered. "Did I find a spot?" he asked, grinning smugly.
"I'm not telling you anything," Riza retorted, tugging on his hair. "This is your class, remember?"
His fingers brushed against her bra beneath the camisole, and he pulled away. "Am I going to find your bra is as blue as your panties?"
Riza bit her lip and turned her head away. "You'll have to be brave enough to find out." When she looked back at him, her eyes sparkled. "Are you brave enough, Roy?"
She allowed him to pull the camisole over her head, and he gazed down at the bright blue lace. Roy groaned and hid his face in her chest. "Lace, Riza, really? You have lace under your uniform every day? I can't carry on anymore."
"What were you expecting? Boring cotton?" She ran her fingers through his hair, and he kissed the mounds of her breasts.
"I don't know," Roy mumbled, "Something less enticing."
Riza shocked him by reaching down and palming the hardening bulge between them. "I'd say, mission accomplished." She laughed. "I warned you I had a bit of a sex-brain, Roy. You'd better do something about it."
Roy slowly slid the blue strap over her shoulder.
"The clasp is in the back. What are you doing?"
"I thought you said this was my class. No more impertinence from you."
Riza huffed and squirmed beneath him.
"I'm just savoring the moment."
Her reply was stifled when he closed his mouth around the pink tip of her nipple. He settled his hand over the opposite lace-covered breast, and she sighed.
"You're driving me crazy, and I know it's intentional."
Roy hummed against her. "This is what you get for distracting me from my work."
She grasped a wad of his shirt and pulled. "Get this off; you're overdressed." Riza wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged him down against her. "Touch me, Roy," she whispered against his lips. The breath in his throat hitched. Riza grabbed his hand and helped him along.
He hid his face in her neck and found the lacy edge of her panties on the juncture of hip and thigh. She was warm and wet around his fingers, and there would be no hiding his erection now. Riza gripped the arm that disappeared under her skirt and moaned quietly as he brushed over her sensitive skin. Her breaths sped up, and Roy watched in wonder as her teeth sank into her lip and reveled in the way she tightened around him.
"Riza! Are you home?" Solaris's voice carried throughout the house, and the front door shut loudly behind her.
Roy's heart nearly jumped from the confines of his chest, and he yanked his hand away from its place between Riza's legs. "Is that Solaris? Now?" he whispered.
Riza groaned and pushed him back so she could sit. "Damn it, she's early. Where's my shirt?" Roy rolled off her and grasped for clothes.
They heard Solaris rummaging around in the kitchen, and Roy became very aware of the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. "This is awful," he groaned and fell back onto the couch cushions.
Riza pulled on her camisole and patted his back. "I'm sorry. It's my fault for losing track of time. Looks like we'll have to take a raincheck." She cleared her throat. "You can go take care of that in the bathroom before you go, if you want."
Roy looked up at her and scowled. "It's not funny, Riza."
The giggles broke through her straight face. "I know. I don't mean to laugh. I'd help you out if I could, but not with Solaris lurking in the kitchen." She tossed him his t-shirt and straightened her own clothes.
"This is so embarrassing," Roy mumbled, pulling on his shirt.
"It could've been worse. She might have actually come looking for me and found you with your hand under my skirt." Riza leaned down and kissed him. "Next time, we'll make sure the door is chained, and no company is expected." Roy pulled her into his lap and kissed her neck softly, then with more enthusiasm. She gasped and made to push him away. "Don't start that again, Roy. I can't handle it."
He grinned triumphantly. "So I did find a spot!"
"Okay, fine, yes. That's a spot I like. Use that knowledge wisely, and I won't have to hurt you."
Roy grimaced. "I'm hurting now." He stood and adjusted his pants. "I think I'll go home and imagine those blue panties again. I'll see you tomorrow?"
Riza smiled apologetically and let him pull her close for a goodbye kiss. "You sure you don't want to see Solaris?"
"You're horrible. I can't walk into her kitchen in this state." Roy was lucky to avoid a speeding ticket on his way home. Images of Riza under him on the couch lingered long enough to relieve the tension before he remembered his application packet was due at the end of the week. He wasn't looking forward to the finality of leaving it for the mail carrier.