A/N: I know, I know, it's been waaaaaay too long since I've updated...FMA Writer's Block struck again.

but...anyways...here's the promised chapter in which we will explore Roy's subconscious...

please enjoy!

Pizza

Roy Mustang didn't dream. He didn't fantasize, or anything like that. He had good, old-fashioned, normal, dull, unimaginative, thanks-for-the-creamer-but-I-prefer-regular-caffeinated-coffee, deep, uncreative sleep.

Well, once upon a time, he dreamt—when he was young. The good old days when he didn't have to worry about flashbacks or guilt.

The war had butchered Roy's creativity as far as the art of sleeping went. Actually, it had berid his life of the art almost altogether. Since the flames of battle had been so permanently etched into his life, Mustang spent almost no time in his house. He was willing to go anywhere except his empty apartment at the end of the day—hence why he kept a very detailed notebook of all his fans.

Sleep had been erased from his vocabulary—the only thing even mildly resembling the necessity was a temporary break known as 'napping'.

Which is exactly where the proud Lt. Colonel now finds himself.

He stared down at the paper in his hands, unsure of his destination as he walked down the dark streets of East City. He was practically the only pedestrian out this late; correction, he might just be the only one in EHQ still awake at all.

That didn't really bother him—it was his custom, after all. What bugged him was the title of the paper in his hands.

"The Little Engine That Could"

Uh…okay…

To tell the truth, Roy could just barely feel a scheme, mischievous, forming in the back of his mind. He couldn't exactly name what he was thinking about doing, but whatever it was seemed to have a location in mind. His feet kept leading him eastward, out of city limits and into the more commercial section of the 'suburbs'.

Oddly, he couldn't quite put a name on his destination, though his conscious mind knew that he must have been there before…at least, the area was certainly familiar.

His polished boots (he's still in his uniform, naturally) began climbing a steep stairwell, the click of his shoes against the concrete was nerve-wracking. Roy felt…edgy for some unidentifiable cause as he mounted the stairs and found himself face-to-face with none other than an apartment door.

He raised one—strangely ungloved—hand to knock, wondering who in the world could possibly be awake this late at night.

He waited for what seemed like forever, completely unsure of where he was or what he was doing at this flat. His purpose, however, was obvious only to his subconscious, which prompted him to knock (again) on the unfamiliar blue door. Roy complied.

He was mid-knock when the entrance swung open, slightly, to reveal a woman who, at first, seemed unfamiliar to Roy (which was certainly saying something when you take into account that this is Roy Mustang).

She was young, his age, no doubt, but she seemed younger, somehow, with her bangs accenting the right side of her face. Her eyes looked somewhat blurred, like she'd been deprived of sleep for too long. She wore no jewelry to speak of, and her bare hands leaned on the doorway; the long shirt she wore fell to her mid-thighs.

And she stiffened as she recognized Roy.

He, in turn, straightened when he realized it was Riza.

Roy cleared his throat and began to speak, feeling as if he were reading lines from a script, "Hawkeye, I was wondering if you could look over this manuscript for me." As if to convince her (and himself), he held out the thick pamphlet.

What ever she was expecting, it wasn't what he'd delivered. "Sir, if this is about—wait a sec, M-manuscript? What manuscript?"

The door opened a bit further now as she struggled to get a full-view of the paper in his hands. Her amber eyes seemed to be contemplating stealing them from his grasp.

Roy continued, still on an apparent 'auto-pilot'. "This one. The fuhrer ordered our unit to put on a play, remember?"

She snatched the paper from his hands; Mustang half-heard her dismayed cry as she read the title. The truth was that he wasn't listening to her anymore.

For there, on the middle of her table, was the most delicious-looking, greasy, hot, greasy, fresh, greasy, cheese pizza he'd ever seen in his life. Instinctively, he knew exactly what was to be done.

He snatched the papers out of her hands and, without even taking the time to get lost in her cloudless honey eyes, he sprang into her pathetically-small apartment, hijacked the pizza, shut the lid on the box, and (within mere milliseconds), was out of her humble abode, avoiding the stairs altogether by jumping off her balcony.

He was on the ground floor when he heard her shocked outburst. "ROY MUSTANG!!"

Now Roy knew he was dreaming; he couldn't EVER recall a time when Hawkeye had called him by his first name. The fact that he was in a fantastical reality, however, did not make him second-guess running away from Riza. He didn't stop for a breather until he was absolutely certain he was outside her firing range.

Mustang paused a moment, his sharp ears listening on the wind, searching for even the faintest noise that would alert him to being followed. Finding none, he slinked behind a corner and sank onto the gravel, placing the precious box of pizza in his lap as he did so.

The casual crunch of gravel, coming from inside the alley, made Roy realize that stopping had been a mistake. The shadowy figure stepped out into the dim light of a street lamp, though Roy already knew who it was.

For a moment, he cursed himself for second-guessing his dream-state by thinking he could hear her approach. If it wasn't reality, of course she could cheat!

He looked to her face, searching for some kind of sign that she was okay with his little prank; it struck him as amazing that, even in an outfit that, on anyone else would have been entirely distracting, she could still be menacing.

"Roy Mustang. You stole my pizza." Her voice was harsh, unrelenting.

"I-I did." Roy didn't feel like he was reading from a script anymore.

"Stand up." The Flame alchemist did as he was told, gingerly gripping the cheese pizza in one hand.

"Now, Mustang, we have three options." Riza continued her strict tirade. "One: You can leave the pizza on the ground and pretend this never happened," her voice dropped and she seemed to speak to herself for a moment, "not likely."

"Two: you can force me to force you to surrender the snack." She smiled wickedly.

"Or, three," she seemed hesitant to list the third option, "we can share…"

Roy easily opted for option three. "Well, come here, and we can share this puppy." His obsidian eyes seemed to glisten with relief that his subordinate might be willing to share her food with him. He began to sit back down when—

"Uh-uh; stay standing." Riza's voice was still harsh as she walked toward her commanding officer. She walked slowly, not wanting to scare him enough to make him run; her gait was still intimidating, of course, but not as much. Her calloused hands rested on her hips as she approached.

"H-Hawkeye??" Roy looked a little more alarmed now. Riza was a little too close…than…was…usual…for her…

And then she was way too close.

And then there seemed to be no distance between her and Roy.

And then there really was no distance.

Riza stood on the tiptoes of her bare feet and, confidently raised her head to meet his, as if she was about to kiss him.

All Roy could think was how close she was; he didn't notice when her fingers grasped the box. All he knew was that, whatever shampoo she used, it smelled REALLY nice in combination with the pizza…

The pizza…

Riza…

Oh man…

In the second that he'd finally relaxed, the pizza was ripped from his grasp. Abruptly uncoordinated, Roy fell into a nearby object (which proved to be a metal garbage can). As he struggled to find a more dignified position, his eyes watched as Riza stood, triumphant, with her pizza in hand. Her amber eyes were aglow with mischief; her smirk was almost tangible as she called out to the Lt. Colonel, already half-way back to her apartment, "See? I knew you'd pick option two."

Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang snapped to attention, almost immediately aware that he was in the office.

He wasn't almost immediately aware that he wasn't the only one still at the office.

"H-Hawkeye?" his voice sounded…dubious.

"Sir?" Riza was still at her desk, still slaving away over her stack of work. The only one still slaving away over her stack of work. Roy wondered where the rest of his employees could be.

"What time is it?"

"Work was over two hours ago, sir." Riza always seemed to know what Roy needed, sometimes before he did.

"Why didn't you wake me up then?"

It was the one question, it seemed, that Hawkeye didn't want to answer. She looked a bit uncomfortable. "Why? Should I have, sir? Did you have a date?"

"No, no. It's just I'm sure you'd rather have gone home two hours ago."

"I had some late work to do here." Her voice was as genuine as ever; always so eager to finish the paperwork, wasn't she? Sometimes, Roy wondered where she got her fervor from.

"Oh…"

A brief silence was shared.

"Riza…" Roy began, pausing, "do you…ever dream about…I don't know…" Roy trailed off as he saw the disbelieving stare Hawkeye was giving him.

"What?" he asked, self-conscious.

"You called me by my name, sir."

"Should I have called you by mine or something?" Wrong words—the silence was suddenly awkward.

"No, it's just you called me by my first name, sir."

"Oh…"

…

…

…

…"Soo…should I walk you home?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to walk you home, Hawkeye," Roy enunciated her name, "since I'm the reason you're here so late to begin with."

Riza seemed a little stunned by his proposition; she deliberated a moment before coming to a decision. She opened her mouth but was interrupted by a low growl coming from somewhere between her face and the floor. It was almost with embarrassment that she explained.

"Sorry, sir, I just haven't eaten today."

"Really? That's great. I'm thinking pizza." Roy began briskly stepping towards the door, guiding Riza with his hand (currently at the small of her back).

"Sir??" she sounded floored.

"What, doesn't pizza sound good to you?" He turned to face her and, after seeing his eyes, she forgot her confusion.

"Lead on, sir." She smiled and the two walked out of the office.

A/N: I think this chapter concludes the 'dream' series; we already delved into Riza's a few chapters ago (which this one was inspired by)...Will try to update a little sooner next chapter.

I really, really hope you liked this. Review if you did.