In honour of me feeling sickly today, have a chapter :D

In Which Roy Reaches A Fever Pitch

She was asleep. Her flank rose and fell rhythmically. Dressed in nothing more than a flimsy top and a pair of knickers, she had collected merely a tip of the blanket to her chest, the rest crumpled in her back. It covered her midriff, if barely, slack arms and legs revealed.

He marvelled at those legs with an unparalleled admiration. Smooth-shaven, moonlit – almost as if to rival the celestial body itself in their shining splendour. They appeared, almost flowed out from beneath the sparse covers. One bending alluringly over the other, foot loosely hooked onto the stretched-out legs' ankle, they were a sight to behold.

Her arms hung just as limply, pointing downwards where the upper tumbled down her ribs, knuckles almost touching the splendour of her bent knee. The lower one – hiding away the plaster he had expected to see – must have hurt her to lie on. He knew the pain of a shot's bruise too well, amazed yet not surprised how she bit the bullet and slept on it as if on a down pillow.

It might have seemed as if she had been knocked unconscious, her position suggesting a struggle, a punch in the stomach and a toss; dumping her lifeless, skidding body to rot in the gutter. But she was asleep, peacefully so. Exhausted, yes, and with a raised temperature as a reaction of her immune system, but not malcontent.

Neither was he.

With the arm dropping down her shoulder, her breasts were squished slightly into forming the perfect cleavage, the blanket's cover too meagre to properly hide the beauty she was unknowingly gracing him with. The top was not doing much to conceal her milky skin either.

And yet, allowing his selfish gaze to travel, to linger and to devour, he could not understand it – how his Second Lieutenant Havoc could choose breasts over the magnificence of legs. Clearly, he had never seen hers. Those soft thighs, toned calves, bending elegantly as one draped over the other, bewitching him unintentionally to the point where he blushed to himself. She was a work of art.

His feet itched for his body to move forward but no step was taken. He did not dare. The instant he would enter her close-ranged space, that dreadfully precise sixth sense of hers would kick in and he could kiss his life goodbye. That, and the closer he went, he less of a view he was graced with.

So he stayed, as if petrified – petrified by the loveliness that was his First Lieutenant.

Her forehead creased, at least more than it already had been doing. Too concerned to care about the gun she would be sticking right between his eyes any moment, Roy neared the bed anyway. Crouching down, he saw an eyelid twitch.

"It's alright," he murmured. He hated to wake her up, but he knew she would rouse the closer he came. That, and he just could not help himself. She was his positive to negative, luring him in; magnetising him without having to actively do anything at all. "It's just me," he whispered. Both of her lids fluttered, her mind taking another moment to instruct them to open.

The words had sunk in though, his voice registered as there was no lethal reflex to grab a weapon or recoil from the presence in her bedroom.

Rounding her back, a deep inhale of awaking filled her lungs. Riza stretched her limbs far from her. That gorgeous upper leg unwound from atop the other, both extending all the way to the tips of her toes before sinking down as two lusciously curving lines.

Her eyes opened after she had released a tired sigh. Blinking into the darkness, she let her gaze rest on his features for several heartbeats. He had to smile. She might have been feverish, but she sure was adorable when sleepy.

"How are you feeling?" He let his smile soften when her throat squeaked out a yawn. Retreating her hand from having covered her mouth, Riza grabbed the blanket a little tighter, pulled it a little higher when realising how she must have practically been showing off her bosom to her superior. She did not yet have the cognitive capacity to comprehend that rectifying the blanket caused it to ride up and reveal her fetching legs up to her hips.

He felt the blood rise back up to his cheeks upon noticing the frayed remains of lace rimming her knickers.

Reaching out a hand, he took hers where it was still holding the blanket. She did not object, neither resist, rather watching him collect her hand in his with interest. Tired interest, eyes wandering with the same lack of speed as her brain.

"What are you doing here?" Riza croaked. She hardly noticed how he had to lean down to hear. His smile returned when her other hand joined his unoccupied one, two fingers lightly trailing the tendons spanning from his wrist to his knuckles. An amused spark settled in his eyes.

"I came to see how you're faring," he gave her hand a squeeze, and it momentarily confused her clouded mind. When she did not continue her ministrations on his dorsum, he used that freedom to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. In the same motion, he placed the backs of his fingers to her forehead, feeling the abating fever radiate against his skin.

She hummed at that, welcoming his lower temperature. With both hands, she took his above her face, making it smother her face entirely. With another cawing hum, Riza nestled into his palm, pressing her nose to the ball of his hand, slim fingers weaving around his. His smile broadened until it could broaden no more.

"How did you get in?" she asked, almost as if rationally understanding how her commanding officer – the man she was currently rubbing into with her eyes bordering blissfully closed – had appeared in her bedroom in the middle of the night.

"The door," he could not help a smirk when she nodded her consent. It crumbled into a meek growl when he reached for the blanket, trying to keep her warmer than she apparently wanted to be. The eternal struggle of a fever – overheating with the only thing truly helpful being more heat. Rational Riza would have known and obeyed her body's needs.

Right now, however, she squirmed, pushing the blanket away – in his direction, to his favour.

"You have to keep warm; it'll be over sooner that way," Roy mellowly reminded. She did not want to hear it. Instead, she grabbed his hand, something he was hardly ever able to resist. Tonight was not one of those times either.

The scratchiness of her voice did not cool him down when she lowly whispered to him, "Then keep me warm." He gulped, feeling the heat return to his face. His smile never leaving nonetheless, Roy did not hesitate to fulfil her wish. She was not much of a help, not moving a centimetre, perhaps already having forgotten about her intimate request.

Kicking off his shoes, he crawled into bed behind her. He profited from the blanket bundled up in front of her, tugging it back towards them, earning himself a grumble of complaint. It died down once he had wrapped his arms around her, the thin coat of undried sweat on her back bathing him in the sweetness of her scent. Placing a kiss on her nape, Roy felt her relax, then deflate with a wholehearted sigh.

Her breathing calmed quickly. He found himself even happier than when he had been gaping in wonder at her legs – the feeling of her ribs beneath his fingers, easily distinguishable beneath the wisp of fabric, reminded him how she must have been too weak to cook during the day. He would gladly overtake that task for her, already browsing his memories for the meal she would like the most.

"How did you really get in?" Riza's voice grated up her throat, snapping him out of his thoughts. His smile returned. So she was not as delirious as he had assumed, yet invited him to sleep with her in her bed. His heart skipped a beat. Her fingers curling around his showed him how she had felt the excited thumping in her back.

"I might have organised myself a key sometime," he vaguely disclosed.

"Oh?"

"It was an experiment really – I hadn't transmuted metal in a while and was curious, so…" he trailed off, fading out as she had a smile stretch across her lips. "For science," he added for good measure. It earned himself a hoarse chuckle.

"And how long exactly has this experiment of yours been going on?" she asked, not letting up on the topic. He noticed the way her flank rose and fell beneath his arm however, the slurring of her voice another indication that told him how she was on her way to drift off again. Perhaps she would not remember much if not nothing at all of their current conversation.

So he used his chance, his hum vibrating on the back of her neck where he planted another, lingering kiss. Her fingers tightened around his, interweaving until touching his palm.

"A while," he admitted lowly.

"Then I don't see why you've never visited before," she mumbled, much to his surprise. Another kiss, his lips pulling into a smirk – then another firm, appreciative, giddily happy kiss.

"Bold of you to assume I haven't."

"Bold of you to assume I wouldn't have noticed," she gave back, almost as steadfast as she would have been under normal conditions. It sent his heart soaring and his guts into fuzzy loops, knowing her flirts were not just the results of her fever. The way she moved his enclosed hand up and beneath her chin – arm squished between her breasts – caused another hammering of his heart. She giggled voicelessly, having felt the brief stuttering of his breath. He responded with another kiss.

"You do realise I'm going to take you by your word, my dear Lieutenant," he sheepishly grumbled in her back, trailing his lips along her shoulder. Oh, she was sublime – every millimetre of her was.

And every millimetre of her would be his again. Sometime soon.