Early, after-the-war-Eastern-Headquarters chap incoming. Hence the lower ranks.

Having persuaded Riza to help him spy out a thief, Roy somehow finds himself with her in the shower, fighting a losing battle of keeping his gazes and hands to himself.

Early Butterflies

Hopeless. This was hopeless. A complete waste of time, Roy would have called it, had said time not been spent entirely with his dear Second Lieutenant – and that was never short of invaluable.

He peeled out of his clothes, already hating that he would have wear them again after the shower. The water was cold for a moment and he shuddered, stepping in anyway. It would wake him up.

The whole evening and almost the entire night, he and his loyal subordinate had been patrolling rooms and corridors. Eastern Command Headquarters was quite the secure building, but lately, there had been repeated incidents of theft, all seemingly happening during the night. One late afternoon, the documents were there, then the next morning, they were gone. And the Lieutenant made him work late into the night due to all of the liberties he had taken with his deadlines for paperwork completion – they were always the last ones there.

It felt like a personal attack; a targeted ambush on Mustang and his team since only their office had fallen victim so far.

And so, hours and hours of being restlessly alarmed and prepared, the two had stayed within the office, later sneaking through the empty halls in search of their tantaliser. For naught.

With puny two hours of sleep, Roy closed his eyes as he let the slowly warming water run down his back. Work started in a good hour and he was exhausted.

So exhausted, in fact, he missed the soap running down his forehead.

"Gyah—!" he hollered in sudden pain, squinting his eyes shut. Cursing inwardly, he rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, only to find them still soapy, turning to the water instead.

"Colonel!" Riza burst into the men's showers a second later, gun drawn. He winced, his face pulled into a grimace. He gripped the shower's curtain tightly before sticking his head out.

"What the hell, Lieutenant?" he yelled, his breath getting caught when met her eyes. They were wide with shock and he understood now that his voice had travelled. "It's alright, nothing happened," he assured, trying to blink with his eyes still stinging. She noticed, lowering her weapon. She was already dressed again after her shower, but her hair was still up in a towel she had wrapped around her head. Shellproof, so it seemed, nothing out of place in spite of her speed.

"Then why do you have to scream as if you're being murdered?" she glared shortly, and he felt his cheeks tint in embarrassment. It had not been that bad, he told himself; she was just still on edge with their target not found.

"Just go and—" Her hand shot up, silencing him. He heard them too then. Steps. Coming down the hall. He held his breath, mind racing as what to do. Their bickering must have been audible – at least the sound of a voice – and then there was still the running shower. The noise was getting louder but before he could come up with anything, Riza reacted.

Grabbing his dry towel from the bench, she dashed into his shower cubicle. Roy's heart leapt into his throat, words getting stuck. His hands were the only thing working for a moment of heated confusion, tightly gripping the curtain to his front.

"What are you—"

"Shh," she shoved the towel into him and he automatically took it with one hand. "No, not for you," she hissed, eyes never straying from where they focused on the source of the nearing steps. More and more colour tinged his cheeks in a deep scarlet when she began to take off her uniform. His gaze stayed trained on her, unable to veer off, even when his mind caught up with his improper actions. The golden blaze of her eyes flashed up to pierce his and he winced, swallowing.

He averted his stare for long enough for her to focus back on her plan. Whatever that was – not that he minded her approach of stripping in the least. Her boots got tucked into the corner, her uniform – complete with the trousers, jacket and black turtleneck – following right after, hastily yet neatly folded of course. She took the towel from him, prompting him to switch back to the curtain for decency. Covering her clothes, it finally dawned on him that she was trying to protect them from the shower's still running water where droplets strayed from the otherwise to the middle and front of the stall facing showerhead. She was erasing her traces. She was planning on staying.

Nope, still not minding her approach, Roy thought to himself. The marvellous vie he was now granted only confirmed that. Black had always suited her. No matter how plain, he could not help but notice, eyes trailing over every detail of that beautiful supple skin of hers, now merely clad in underwear. That darn uniform hid so much goodness away that he now failed to restrain himself from admiring it all with a spark of desire churning through his insides.

Her eyes flashed up again, giving a warning glare but his own were helplessly glued to her. Her surprisingly slender shoulders, that fine ample bosom, the way her waist curved, dipping into those enchantingly sculpted hips, her strong legs – oh, he could have stared at her for forever.

The only thing bringing him back to reality were the approaching steps, now right outside the men's showers. She lightly slapped his hand as it still clutched the curtain and he returned a panicked look of rejection. He blinked his finally calmed eyes when thinking to have seen her roll hers. If she did not mind – at least made it seem like it – why did he? Fleetly, she undid the towel around her hair, turning her head for him to tie it around his waist.

Doing as he was told, Roy finally let go of the curtain, fixing the damp – and not to mention lovely smelling – towel as securely as he could. It was short.

With a pressed breath of discomfort, he turned the shower down a little, the sprinkle merely reaching their heels now, though enough to give the illusion of an unexpecting person under the stream.

The steps had stopped at the entrance.

Agonisingly slowly – definitely sneaking – they entered. One individual, heavy despite creeping, Probably male. Riza lifted her gun again, all senses locked on their target while Roy still had a hard time focusing on anything but her alluring half-naked body. And now her freed hair that she was letting grow – could this day get any better?

Under different circumstances, this could very well be one of the best days he had ever had. Definitely a top three of the best missions.

The intruder came into the room, the rustling of fabric telling them that the Lieutenant Colonel's uniform was being inspected. Oh, if that got stolen now, Roy inwardly swore, clenching a fist. Riza grabbed his wrist, and he was way too happy about the excuse to glance at her. His cheeks' still quite prominent colour rose up to his ears when she started rubbing his hand on his torso. Slim fingers firmly around his wrist, they brushed his side, ribs and abdominals until he almost felt that damn blood reach lower regions.

With a strict look at his blush – luckily just the one from his neck up – and a darkening one of her own, she dragged his mind out of the gutter.

Ah, right. He was supposed to be showering. Releasing him, she stiffened at the approaching of the steps to their cubicle. Roy bent his arm behind him, waving it about the water, pretending to be under the stream. The boots halted.

"Colonel, 's that you?" the voice right in front of the curtain called. Both froze.

"Havoc?!" Roy exclaimed unbelievingly. Now blushing more profusely too, Riza stepped back a little. He turned off the water. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, muffling her breathing for their teammate not to notice her. It made her arm squish her breast slightly and Roy really wanted to replace it with his own hand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I work here," Havoc cheekily gave back. A vein pulsed on Roy's forehead.

"At bloody five in the morning? Don't give me that crap," he accused, triggering laughter.

"Alright, fine," the Warrant Officer shrugged. "We heard you conspire with Hawkeye about staying to catch some criminal, so we thought we'd give you some backup."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Breda and I. Where is she anyway?" Havoc went on. There was a clicking of a lighter and a second later, the stench of smoke faintly reached them. "I was rather hoping to be surprising her in the shower instead of you..." he muttered with the cigarette in his mouth. A growl escaped Roy's throat, making his Second Lieutenant avert her gaze and his Warrant Officer laugh.

"Don't you dare sneak up on her," Roy threatened, "you'll be a dead man."

"Yeah, I know," Havoc started strolling around the room, his voice fading slightly from time to time, telling them about his back turning on them. "You don't seem to have all that many problems with it, though – the sneaking up, I mean," he grinned through his voice. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Roy used the opportunity to gather information – and not least to get off the topic of Riza's whereabouts. She had stepped behind him, gun lowered now, but the natural heat of her body told him just how close she was.

"And did you see anything? Anyone breaking in and stealing important documents?"

"Important documents?" Havoc raised a brow. "We're here for some boring paperwork?" he questioned. "Aw, man, all of this for a bunch 'o lousy sheets?"

"Well, did you?"

"Nah, no one there. Not even Hawkeye," Havoc harped on. "I'm kinda fearing she'll scare the hell out of Breda any minute now; took me long enough to talk him into this… you don't know where she could be, do you?" he asked as if he was on to them. Roy tried to relax his nervously clenched jaw.

"How should I know? I'm in the shower," he gave back. It earned a disappointed sigh.

"You always keep tabs on her – oh, speaking of which," he moved closer to the curtain again, his shadow falling right onto it. "We got you covered as usual," he almost snickered, his hand suddenly sticking into the cubicle. Riza shrunk a little without repositioning her feet as not to create any noise. She peered past Roy's biceps to see what Havoc proudly presented.

A photograph.

"Good thing we've always got the camera around, don't you think? We went to print it when getting' breakfast." He was grinning again, though his face was fortunately not in view – and they were not to him. Roy felt the heat flush his face again, all the way up to his ears, his heart jumping into his throat. Shit.

However they had managed to shoot it that quietly with Riza's light sleep, he wondered, regarding the in darkness veiled couple the photo showed. They had slept on the couch in the lounge, fatigued from the day of work and night of lying in wait. So, for roughly two well-deserved hours, she had been lying on him instead. The picture was perfect apart from the shroud of the dark, him on his back, holding her with both arms while one of hers fell off the side of the sofa, the other hand comfortably resting next to her head on his chest. It was endearing, he found, again too happy for his own good.

And then it was gone, Havoc's voice travelling towards the exit of the room alongside his steps.

"Good, isn't it? Finally one with both of you," Havoc smirked triumphantly, slyly. "I'll go ahead and put it there, you know," he chuckled to himself, "with the others," he stopped where they estimated him to be in the doorway. "I'll be upstairs, collecting Breda – I hope he's still alive if she's actually still lurking around here somewhere," he absently said, more to himself.

"If you're so eager on helping out, why not start on my paperwork then?" Roy huffed sarcastically. He could feel the drilling of Riza's eyes in his back, his body now covered in more droplets of sweat than the shower's water. He did not dare to turn but he could feel her urge to strangle him to the core. This was going to be a hard one to explain…

"Oh, and those documents," Havoc seemed to take no notice of the slight shaking of his superior's voice. "Could those be the ones you asked Falman to file in?" he casually asked over his shoulder. The hint of mockery did not go unnoticed, and Roy felt even more daggers stabbing his back from his Lieutenant's scorching glare. And he had not meant for her – them – to sacrifice that much sleep for not even two hours of cuddling up – not that he regretted it; on the contrary – but he was well aware that if it had been anyone else or if he had been on his own, he would have looked into the matter more attentively beforehand.

Because, yes, so he now remembered, he had asked for them to be filed in.

With a cackle, Havoc interpreted the awkward silence correctly, much to the Lieutenant Colonel's dismay. His boots echoed back down the hall. They waited until the noise and cigarette's stench had disappeared completely.

Roy did not dare turn around. He almost opted for a bullet of her gun instead of her eyes killing him. She inhaled slowly, deeply, as if it was the last thing somehow keeping him from dying a painful death. The fact that it took so long did not help his nerves calm down, a single breath seeming to take eternity. Then the exhale came, sharp and exasperated. Bare feet squelched quietly against the still wet tiles as she moved.

Bringing himself to turn, Roy started with a fleeting glance over his shoulder. He got trapped again, staring at her back, at the dark ink and the still reddish scars, at the way her damp, seemingly golden tresses fell over her shoulders, and not least the soft flesh of the underside of her behind as she bent over to gather her clothes.

She turned to him, reluctantly, though swiftly as she must have noticed his eyes' route. He would have flinched at her glowering would her face not have been glowing so much. She was almost as vermilion as him. Holding his gaze with a defiant attempt at a scold he would have usually taken very seriously – the times when she ignored and worst of all rejected him were the gloomiest hours of his life – she jerked her head towards the curtain. He pursed his lips in response.

Harking for any more sneaking steps, he decided to adapt to her strategy, keeping his mouth shut. A finger came up and he pointed to the soap still in his hair. Scowling, it took another second for her to give in – he needed to be the one out first, making sure the coasts were clear. Then she turned, facing the corner again, her clothes still wrapped into his towel, now shielded by her body as well. And he wanted nothing more than to reach out to that body, to adore it, explore and devour it.

With an amount of self-control he wanted to award himself a medal for, his hand went to the faucet instead. The water was colder again and she winced lightly when droplets hit her back. He did not take his eyes off her for even one second, hands absentmindedly scrubbing the soap out of his hair. The towel around his hips remained forgotten, water seeping into it.

Then he did reach out. Another wince but no glare; no word or gesture of rebuff. He could see her shoulders tense, arms tightening around her bundle but it did not stop him. After his fingertips followed his palm, then the other, tenderly feeling the burn on her shoulder blade he was responsible for. She swallowed, audibly, yet still showed no sign of prohibiting his touch.

So he went on, gently brushing along her spine, down the length of her back and up again. He hovered above the clasp of her bra for a moment, feeling her heartbeat race as ferociously as his own through her ribs. Quite possibly putting his neck on the line, Roy slid two fingers beneath the fabric, unhooking with a practised ease. Not that she was the one to have taught him that but he took pride in adding her to the list. As a matter of fact, she could very well remain to be the only person on the bra-unhooking-by-his-hand list for all he cared. And he cared a lot when it came to her. Only he would look forward to extending said enumeration by repeatedly having her name noted down, hers and only hers.

Not holding her breath like him, Riza's lungs worked in laps, flat and tiny gasps rocking her back into his palms. Tracing along the markings, Roy caressed her back up and down and up again, drawing small circles, long lines and random patterns until landing on her shoulders. His hands stroked along them, his hammering heart skipping gladly when he managed to make them sink. Caringly, he parted the hair that still stuck to her upper back, leaning in to place a kiss to her nape. An unintended hum escaped her lips, muted by her hand not an instant later. He smirked to himself.

Retreating, he surprised her visibly. Turning, almost spinning around, Riza met his eyes in puzzlement. And he wanted to crown himself a god for how there was the slightest of haze abating from them. He had always known to be charming, but she was the ultimate challenge. His ultimate and single most important goal to obtain. To win over, even if it took the strength to end a perfect opportunity like this. And it worked wonders.

Pressing her in the towel wrapped clothes to her chest, Riza blinked at him. She was so adorable, he almost dived back in, planting his feet into the tiles the last second. He turned the water off.

With a warm smile, Roy put his hand atop her head. Big eyes met his and he did not stop smiling when placing sweet kiss on her forehead.

"I'll need my towel now," he muttered, finally acknowledging to still be wearing hers. Her mind's gears were turning more slowly now, and he could have whooped from what an effect his affection had on her, hardly able to wait until he could try again. And he would try again, he told himself, as soon as possible and even if it cost him another sleepless night or ten.