027: Dependency
It was a Sunday, their only day off, and yet she found herself "working" still. Just when she thought she could get a lazy day for herself after the hectic, action-filled week that passed, someone came knocking at her door—
"Uh… hello, Lieutenant!" a familiar raven-haired man was standing at her doorway, presenting Hawkeye with his biggest, most sincere, please-help-me-I'm-desperate smile. "I just came to ask if you happen to have… er, a sewing kit?"
What? "Oh, hello, Colonel," Hawkeye returned his greeting, albeit quite puzzled. He came all the way to my apartment just to ask for a sewing kit? "I… yes, I do, but—" –couldn't you have just bought one? She cut herself off; the three-letter word of affirmation just brightened up the Flame Alchemist's face. Hawkeye sighed. "Please, come in. Make yourself at home."
"You're a life-saver, Hawkeye," Mustang said as he sat down on the couch. A smile made its way to Hawkeye's lips as she went to retrieve the sought-after item.
"If you don't mind my asking, sir," Hawkeye said when she returned, sewing kit in hand, and took a seat next to Mustang. "What are you going to use it for?"
Mustang pulled out a pair of gloves. "These," he said, "I ran out of gloves with transmutation circles on them. I just realized I had used my last pair on our previous assignment… and you know what happened to the gloves."
"Oh, right," Hawkeye replied with a thoughtful look. "It wasn't even raining, but you were…" she trailed off. She didn't bother to finish; they both knew what she meant.
"If it helps you sleep at night, then so be it," Mustang answered, jokingly. "But I'm sure it gives you nightmares."
"It gives me more work to do, that's for sure. But anyway," she said, dismissing the previous topic, "You plan on sewing the array then?" Mustang nodded. "Do you… usually do that yourself?" It was out of curiosity; she didn't mean to imply he couldn't sew nor do things like that—more like she couldn't imagine it.
"Actually… no, I don't. I used to have to them sewn on by someone, but that person's in Central now, and I just realized too late that this last pair has no array—"
"Why do you have one without an array?"
"—I don't know myself. But anyway, it's the last resort—I can't go to work without my pyrotex gloves. This is a temporary one, until I can get back to Central."
"I see."
"You won't mind if I do it here, right?" Mustang asked, with a tinge of hopefulness evident in his voice. "This will only take a minute! I hope." Nevertheless Hawkeye agreed. Mustang silently began his needlework while Hawkeye went to prepare some tea. Afterwards, she sat down beside him again and watched him in his work. She found it quite amusing; Colonel Mustang had such a serious face on—he was indeed concentrated on his work. However, his fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate with him today.
"May I?" Hawkeye asked, taking one of the gloves. Mustang nodded, but as he was about to say something, Hawkeye said, "It's in my skin; don't worry," reassuring him that she knew what to do.
An hour (contrary to what Mustang promised) and a couple of tea cups later, the two officers had finished their work. As Mustang went on to admire their needlework—he wore the gloves together and posed as if ready to strike—Hawkeye let out a short, stifled laugh. Mustang frowned; why his subordinate was laughing, he couldn't tell, and it seemed she had no plans on telling. "What? What's so funny? Why are you laughing?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Was it something I did?" Then Hawkeye took his gloved hands together and held it up to him for comparison.
"Spot the difference." She bit back a laugh.
"Darn it."
Hawkeye then took off the odd glove and picked up the thread and needle again. Mustang could only sigh; Riza was just too useful, too dependable. He took a sip of tea and watched her fingers—slightly calloused from handling the guns she was very well known for—as she swiftly but carefully sewed the familiar array.
"Sorry for the trouble, Hawkeye," he said, as he stood. He's put her through many things—watching his back the heaviest, probably—so there must be something he could do for her as well, no matter how small. Cook dinner? Do the laundry? Prepare her uniform for tomorrow? Shine her boots? Oh, he could just feed Hayate and take him out for a walk; that would be an easy handful. "Anything I could do for you? I've been letting you do so many things for me, so…"
"No, it's all right, sir, you don't have to," Riza smiled, pausing in her needlework. "I'm nearly finished." Roy sighed, slightly defeated. He sat back down on the couch and closed his eyes. A few moments later, and his breathing was even—he had fallen asleep. The events of the past week had exhausted them, and it has already taken its toll on Roy, being one who could find sleep so easily.
Riza turned to her superior and said, "Here you go, it's done," but upon noticing that he was silently sleeping on her couch (with Black Hayate curled up at his feet), she smiled. "You're really hopeless sometimes." She chuckled, as she absent-mindedly brushed away hair from his face. Becoming aware of her actions, Riza shook her head and stood from the couch, carefully guiding Roy's sleeping figure into a lying position to make him comfortable.
Sunlight was slowly filling the room. Roy Mustang opened an eye—Huh? Where am I?—then another—Oh, wait, this is Hawkeye's place. Whoa, wait, Hawkeye's?! Then that means—he sat up. "I fell asleep." He mumbled groggily, scratching the back of his head. As he stood to look for the blonde lieutenant, something dropped to the floor. Hmm? My gloves! They're finished! "Riza!" he called suddenly; the name slipping out before he could think.
Riza, startled by the sudden use of her first name, and by the volume of her superior's voice despite just awakening, hurriedly popped her head out of her room. "Yes, sir?" She asked. She was in the middle of dressing for work, already wearing her black turtleneck shirt and uniform pants.
"Oh, nothing, nothing," he mumbled. The sight of her in half-uniform suddenly made him panic. It's almost time for work?! I'm screwed. "Uh, I think I'm going to be late today, Lieutenant," he said, already walking towards the door to her apartment. "Sorry for the trouble! Thanks for yesterday!"
"Colonel!" Riza called, just before he could make his way out. She was holding out a towel and a paper bag. She smiled lightly.
Upon seeing the contents of the bag, Roy grinned and took the items from the Lieutenant. "I won't ask how you have these," he said, as he trailed behind Hawkeye who held the bathroom door open for him. "I think you're a girl scout or something. No, scratch that. You're my oh-so-dependable Lieutenant-sama."
Roy flashed her a grateful smile before disappearing into the bathroom.
Really, it was amazing how his life depended on her sometimes—or rather, most of the time. She was always there when he needs her, and it seemed she was always ready for any situation that could arise. And it was equally amazing that she depended on him as well. If something were to happen to her, he'd always rush to the scene to her rescue, no matter how much it could jeopardize things. And in a way, she'd be nothing without him, and same goes for him. Strange, and yet somewhat sweet.
And to think they have "nothing" going on.
End. A bit too... idk. Fluffy? No, RANDOM for my liking. XD But I couldn't get it out of my mind lately, so... I just had to type it up. Ehhhh.... I dunno what to say about this. I dunno. I think it's weird? XD Anyway, I'm posting this because I feel so giddy and happy about Chapter 107.
(Oh yeah. Setting of this one-shot... the time when they were still stationed at East HQ. XD)
Riza is so dependable. 8D Chapter 107 is proof enough that Roy and Riza are really meant to be together. /hearts
