Thank you all so much for your reviews! I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate it!

Seems I wasn't being too clear there; there was a lot of 'her' in that sentence... but Rebecca is recounting her own dates in detail, not Riza. Riza neither talked too much with Rebecca ranting away, neither would there be much to say since her dates revolve around no one but Roy :D

Wednesday

Roy awoke to her body stirring, rather than to the sudden alarm. Why did she have to set one anyway? The sound was obnoxious, and he was sure he had just been dreaming about something highly inappropriate. He would have liked it to continue.

Riza gave an unhappy grumble. Her back arched against his chest in an attempt to wake up properly. Moaning in complaint, she reached out for the twin bell alarm clock. Goosebumps rose on her arm as it left the warm blanket haven. She all but thrust down the button on the back. He could tell without opening his eyes.

When he did open them, squinting to see for which unholy time she had set the alarm, he was surprised when she did not escape immediately. Instead, she shuffled to turn over. Always intent on staying beneath the sheets, she came to face him. A bare, smooth leg hooked onto his, then her arm snaked along his ribs to his back. She used it as a lever to smother herself into his chest, sending butterflies to the pit of his stomach.

"Count down from 120," her voice came muffled and croaking. She was so tired; even more tired than him. His early bird and out-of-bed-hauler, clinging to him in denial of having to get up. He enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

"120, 119, 118, 117, 116," he quietly obeyed. She snuggled in closer, however that was possible. He gladly helped by hugging her to him, offering his arm as a pillow and in turn gaining access to messy but heavenly scented golden hair.

At 78, he was merely whispering. At 32, her breathing had evened, and at 14 he faded out, knowing he would not need to continue any longer. She was snoring softly thanks to the angle of her head on his biceps. He adored it with all his throbbing heart. Sleepy Riza was in bitter competition for the top five Rizas, not least because she was cuddling into him with such devotion.

To his dismay though in favour of his rank, she roused a minute later. Her sense of duty was louder than any alarm. He tightened his embrace when she retracted her limbs. It triggered more grumbling. Her hand got squished between their torsos, unable to retreat.

"Colonel," she chided drowsily.

"I like it this way," he innocently retorted. He could feel the scowl coming. Venturing a glance downwards, he felt his frown of anticipation vaporise for a huge smile. She was trying to give him a look, she really was, only opening her eyes seemed too straining. She blinked repeatedly, lashes crusted and heavy. So she closed them again.

His chuckle made her huff vocally, but that was about all she could muster as punishment. Letting go with one hand, Roy gently rubbed over her lids. She heaved a tired sigh in gratitude.

"I can write us a leave of absence," he proposed. Unsuccessfully, of course. She groaned. Inhaling deeply, she readied herself to get up. To his surprise, her arm did not move away, but wandered upwards. It made him tense shortly. Still not going away, her hand landed on his neck, crawling beneath his head as she heaved herself up. Her face stopped only centimetres away from his, so close she was becoming blurry.

Her fingers straddled through his hair. Roy was suddenly wide awake, his heart skipping a few times too often when she touched her nose to his, then pecked his lips.

"No," Riza sweetly said. Teasingly. Warningly. While retreating, she accidentally prodded where he had indicated the last night, her knee twitching away from where he was standing at attention like every morning. She gave him a look. "No," she strictly repeated. He had to laugh.

"It's not that," he defended himself, voice squawking just as much as hers. The clandestine smile on her face told him that she knew – she had to, anyhow, seeing as this was far from the first time they had woken up together.

"It better not be," Riza slid off the bed to stand. "The last time wasn't even yesterday but today," she reminded. Hayate was already at her feet, greeting her excitedly.

"About two hours ago, I reckon," Roy yawned.

"So do my legs," Riza cursed under her breath. He watched her, puzzled, until noticing how funnily her first few steps into the hall looked. He could not help but laugh again. She slammed the bathroom door in response.

She walked Hayate while Roy prepared a quick breakfast. The 'o' in her legs had returned to normal, but her feet still ached from when Rebecca had towed her from shop to shop in heels. For once, she did not have to think twice when it came to accepting his help – he would take care of the dog after work.

"Please, that's what you call embarrassing?" Havoc leaned back in his chair.

"It was at the time," Breda puffed. "I don't assume you got anything better to offer – or worse, come to think of it," he challenged.

"Worse doesn't do it justice," Havoc said. "Talk to me again when you have you grandma walk in on you," he raised a single brow. That bet was as good as won. No one had suffered more than him that fateful day, so he deserved a speck of recompense in the form of his teammates paying him some cash.

"Alright, shoot," Breda propped his arm on the table, nodding his head expectantly.

"I was with this girl," Havoc started, "super cute and well-stacked," he wiggled his brows. The Colonel muttered something that sounded like 'who would've thought'. "A real sweetheart when I introduced her earlier, but man that woman could ride – and I'm not talking about horses," his smirk grew. What precious memories, had they not come to such an unappealing end. "So we had a little rodeo in my room, until I hear a knock.

"Sure enough – half deaf as she was – my grandma walked in without waiting for an answer, right when Angeline was—"

"Spare us the details, Havoc," Roy raised a hand, "otherwise work till six will be even more of a pain than it already is," he grumpily said.

"Till six? That's ambitious," Fuery muttered. He was overall rather quiet and inactive when they discussed bets such as most awkward sexual experiences. None of the other four, not even Falman, spared the poor boy, seeing as the moments Hawkeye was not in the office were scarce.

"So anyway, she walked in on us – deathblow number one. And not just 'cause of what she saw, but 'cause Angeline was furious. Deathblow number three."

"You were at two," Falman interjected.

"It was a such a severe blow," Havoc feigned a sniffle. The other rolled their eyes. "Anyway, the day after, heartbroken me went to eat – all non-confrontational, about to let slide how the old hag had ruined my future and destroyed the best relationship of my life," he exaggerated – there were 10,000 Cens to be won. "But then granny goes all 'How is that girl you were dry-humping the other day?'"

Breda burst out laughing at that. The Colonel joined in, a dirty laughter rippling from his throat while the others grimaced as not to laugh too loudly. Fury blushed three shades of red on Havoc's behalf. He was blushing lightly himself, but he had to admit that it felt damn good to finally share with someone – someone who was not a fleet, tipsy encounter.

"I yelled of course, but she had to twist the knife in the wound," he shook his head.

"What did she say?" Breda eagerly urged. Havoc proceeded with a flawless impression of the scratchy, higher voice.

"'What? That wasn't seriously what you call sex, right? When I was your age—'" he circled his palm. He had won without a doubt. The office was roaring with laughter, Falman even wiping a tear. "Top that," Havoc turned to his superior. Fuery's story had been petty, Falman's ended almost sweetly, and Breda's was nothing in comparison to Havoc's grandmother ranting about her wild days. There was no way the Colonel could top it.

But Roy only tutted, closing his eyes loftily as he rested his chin on his knuckles.

"Not too shabby, I have to admit," he was fighting a grin, still amused. "But who cares about old ladies when you have a dog attacking you," he countered. Breda shuddered. Damn, he had to mention the word dog. If Breda voted in favour of the Colonel now, the others would start to question their choice, too. The chances were fleeting. And cigarettes did not buy themselves.

"So what?" Havoc crossed his arms.

"It attacked you?" Breda pressed, by far too agitated for Havoc's taste. He would infect the others.

"Tried to protect its owner, it did," Roy said, the slyest of smirks directed at Havoc. "Bit me right in the posterior – don't you remember how I was standing for the entire duration of my promotion?"

"You were stiff as a plank; I was wondering why you would be so nervous," Falman recalled. Of course he did, bloody traitor.

"Well, there you go," Roy sat back self-complacently. "Yyou may hand over the money now, thank you," he outstretched his hand. Havoc remained quiet, much to Roy's displeasure. No, he had other things to fathom. To add up.

A dog. A dog had bitten Roy, and they all knew that one dog in particular. When again had Hawkeye adopted Hayate?

"…estris to Havoc. Havoc, come in," Breda waved his hand in front of his friend's face. Havoc blinked himself out of his trance. Naturally, the money was gone. They had voted without him. Bastards, all of them. Only...

"Say, Colonel, when was that promotion again?"

"Huh?" Roy did not glance up from the document in front of him. They had wasted quite some time, and he would be target number one once Hawkeye returned.

"The ceremony where you had to stand, when was that again?"

"You think I'm keeping some cheesy diary about that?" Roy propped his head up on his hand, hair tussling at how discontent he was with whatever form he had to read. "I rather keep track of those rodeos you were talking about," he grinned to himself.

"And the one with the dog was…?" Havoc insisted. He received a questioning look in return, making him lower his head. "Never mind," he mumbled. He could not be too obvious, or the Colonel might stop betraying information – or tell Hawkeye to be on her guard.

Hawkeye! She had no idea; he could still ask her. She was taking awfully long, no matter how big headquarters was. The possibility of not running into her right down the hall was slim, but he had to try. Learning that his assumption was correct would make up for the loss of money – and dignity.

"Oi, Colonel," Breda interrupted his work, brow creased. "Who was that lady?" he asked. Just like that. Straight out. Havoc crossed his fingers tightly under the table. "I mean, who even keeps their dog in the same room when they're having sex? Or was it some impatient, against-the-wall kinda thing?" Wow, he had guts. Breda was cool, Havoc had known ever since the man had made him eat dirt during their academy days. Literally.

He was frank, had a good heart, and was never above breaking a sweat to get the job done. He was the perfect buddy to talk about everything and anything, from the stupidest drunken nothings to a deep conversation – and he knew when either was appropriate. Also, discussing dates and preferences was a delight.

"Who?" Roy did not look up despite the dramatic tone of voice, rather lowering his head further into his paperwork. "Only my first true crush and love of my life," he sighed. He actually sighed – a heartbroken, remorseful sigh. It was so much more sincere than the one Havoc had tried to reap pity with. It sounded almost as if the wound was so fresh, it might have happened just yesterday. The promotion was not that long ago, but still... the man had been to war; how was this beating him up to such an extent?

"N'aww," Fuery pouted on his superior's behalf.

"Sounds to me as if you're still pining after the girl, Sir," Falman remarked.

"Pining is the right term, though it's pining away as much as after," Roy lamented. He was serious about this, Havoc realised. So then… it was not her? "The loveliest creature you will ever lay eyes upon." Nope, not Hawkeye. Iron-hearted, mercilessly shooting Hawkeye. Alright, that was overdone, but it was the image Eastern Command had of her. The team knew better, though Havoc speculated he knew even more than them how she was a lot kinder than her reputation made her out to be.

"A lovely woman with a biting dog – how charming," Breda muttered.

"Used to leave me pressed flowers in my alchemy books," Roy overheard the last comment completely. "Any meal a treat to the tastebuds, and most nights spent in front of the hearth," he raved on. He was so lost in a different sphere, he did not notice Havoc making his way to the door.

"Imma go get some coffee," he excused.

"For me, too," Breda raised his hand, Falman mirroring him. "Say, where's Hawkeye?" he noted. She would make coffee around this time, but while hiding indecent tales from her, no one had wanted to give her long absence a second thought.

"Maybe I'll see her on the way," Havoc said. Closing the door behind him, he let out a sigh. Now on to the next phase of his plan – he had gathered enough intelligence without sowing mistrust. If all went smoothly, he would be richer in what he liked to call state secrets than any bet money could make him.

He lit a cigarette on his way down the hall. Stuffing the lighter back into his pocket, he left his hand there.

Past the conference rooms, a broom closet, a couple of offices and the restrooms, he took the stairs towards the canteen. The coffee was always free there during working hours, simply because it was such a bother to carry it all the way back up. Not to mention disgusting. He was by far keener on finding Hawkeye and asking her to prepare something tasty back at the office. And ask about other things, too.

His ears perked when an unnerved groan directed him to the right. He knew that sound too well – the Colonel triggered it on a daily basis.

Sure enough, there she was. Exhausted looking, even without having her face turned towards the door, Hawkeye stared down the fallen piles of documents. A shelve had toppled, spilling its contents across the floor. Several stacks lined the wall – all of which she must have already sorted and rearranged. He was everything but eager to tidy up, but he was upping his chances for juicy details if he was of assistance to her.

"Don't you look like you could use some help," he leaned against the doorframe. She sighed, arms dropping to her sides.

"I could, in fact," she turned. "I found this mess and no one feeling responsible," she explained. "I could have sworn I heard someone hurry away…" she added under her breath.

"Let's start with the shelf, shall we?" Havoc crossed over. With little effort and his cigarette between his lips, he shoved it back against the wall, clapping his palms together to get rid of the dust. "We were wondering why you hadn't come back yet," he went to bend down and pick up what she had already sorted. As expected of her, he knew exactly where to put it, everything in order and labelled for even the last idiot to understand with a single glance. "Actually, I'm glad I met you here like this," he said, "I need some information."

"I thought Falman was at the office today," she said, not looking up from sorting through sheets.

"I doubt he has the expertise in the field I'm interested in," he vaguely phrased. He kept flashing glances at her, hoping eye contact would give him some extra credit of unsuspiciousness, but she was busy flipping over pages and alphabetising lists.

"Did you get a jamming?" Was all she asked after a moment.

"It's not about guns."

"Do you want a coffee?" she guessed next. He frowned.

"Those aren't your sole abilities."

"I forgot the dog, didn't I?" she was irritated, yes, but did she had to be so mean to herself? After all, she had not been the one to throw over a shelf and then leave.

"Don't degrade yourself so, you have plenty more talents than that," Havoc argued. Her lips remained tight, eyes never once leaving the task at hand. She must have been furious, and he had to say that he sympathised. Cleaning up after someone too lazy was infuriating. Especially if the person remained unknown or undiscerning.

At least the Colonel felt sorry and did his work eventually, even if it cost them all night.

"How so? I'm perfectly accepting of my fields of expertise," she huffed.

"Coffee and guns?" Havoc pulled a face. Slapping the next few sheets onto a stack, she let out a sharp sigh in order to calm down. He took the stack to put it where it belonged, and she smiled at him for the first time, weakly yet honestly.

"I'm only kidding. What is it that you need? Did the Colonel cancel your date with overtime?" she asked.

"Not quite, but related to that," he mentally prepared himself. The arching brow he received did not help. Trying to think of Breda's straightforwardness did however, or so he hoped. "Have you ever pressed flowers?" he finally asked. The brow went down, turning into a frown. To his luck, one of amusement.

"Now that's an unusual question," she noted, studying the next document.

"I just wanted to gain knowledge in more... girly topics – you know, baffle 'em when they least expect it," he quickly made up. Genius, he inwardly praised himself.

"Impress them with your feminine side," Hawkeye's amusement was audible, almost like a purr. He swallowed his pout.

"Yeah, that, but cooler than you made it sound," he could not help it. She laughed, and since there were no stacks ready to carry off, he endured. Crouching there, blushing for a reason that did not even apply to him. It surprised him when she then conceded to often having pressed flowers in her youth. The cringing had been worth it – it had mellowed her. He was approaching his aim quicker than expected. "Why'd you put them in books?" he asked way too suddenly.

Perhaps Breda's example should be treated with caution.

"Who says I put them in books?" she glanced up at him. He gulped.

"I just assumed..." he nearly cursed, offering a sheepish grin. Her smile returned. Thank goodness – or whoever had made it – for the mess at their feet. It might have riled her up previously, but for him it was his ticket to occult information.

Apart from that – now that she was occasionally meeting his eyes – he spotted the beginnings of dark rings beneath. She was probably too tired to suspect any ulterior motives.

He took a drag from his cigarette, extinguishing it properly against the underside of his foot before dropping the bud in the bin.

"You do press them between books, but I'd advise you to do it between the backs and parchment, not between the pages – they'll stick and imprint their colour onto them," she explained.

"And I always thought you put them in books," he nodded his understanding.

"I did it to store them once they were dry," she went on, "or to leave them for someone," she said. She actually said that. Unasked. He wanted to toss the rest of the paper up into the air in celebration. But he could not – first, because he had to play it cool, and second, because she would bite off his head.

"Uuh, some secret admirers?" he approached playfully instead. It lured out another short laugh, one he found too sarcastic to still be kind to herself.

"Hardly," was all she replied, eyes on the sheets below.

"Aw, c'mon, you can't tell me you didn't have any admirers. They're everywhere when you're at a bar," Havoc argued. It was seldom that she accompanied them, but the goggling from all sides were hard to miss. The Colonel became a spectacle whenever it happened.

"I didn't leave the house often, and there weren't all that many in there," she shrugged. She meant to be sarcastic, but all he heard was a supposedly well-hidden truth beneath a veil of ridiculing. Hurt, he would have called it had he allowed the interpretation.

"Who'd you leave messages then?"

"The household," she vaguely phrased. Not excluding Roy, but he did not know that. "My father for one; some futile attempts to gain his attention where books proved so much more interesting than his only child," she faded into a sigh. He could see why she stuck to her superior like a magnet at all times possible – working was the only thing that kept from ruining the mood completely, the steady swishing of paper and skimming of impersonal paragraphs acting as her anchor. And with the amount of work the Colonel posed, he was her saving grace.

"Sounds like some unresolved issues... ever tried talking to him about it? Now that some years have passed," Havoc carefully proposed. He did not want to get on her bad side, but he was convinced that overplaying the problem would only make it worse. Briefly, he could see himself there with her, in front of her father's door, granting as much moral support as he could.

Of course, it would probably be Roy who would be by her side.

"Might prove difficult with him six feet under," Hawkeye's voice gained a fraction of bitterness. It vanished as soon as it had come. With a short exhale, she completed the next pile. He opted against picking it up and in favour of remaining where he was. "I'm not sure I would, even if he was still alive," she then said, feeling his concern.

"Oh, I didn't know, I'm sorry," Havoc said. It explained a lot of things though, since he already knew how the Colonel did not have any family left. If she had such gashing inner turmoil with her father, she and Roy must have swooped down on each other.

"Don't worry, it's been a while," she smiled a small smile to herself, leafing through forms. "I've had help to cope with it," she added as if to confirm his surmise. "So what's really going on?" she tilted her head at him. He frowned. She did not look as if she had guessed his reasons. She looked… relaxed. A rare sight to behold.

"What do you mean?"

"How exactly is this going to impress a girl?" she arched her brows inquisitively. "You randomly whipping out the knowledge that placing flowers between books will press them doesn't exactly sound like your style," she quipped. She seemed sceptical, though most likely due to him asking about her father.

He decided to leave it at that. His mission had been risky enough, and he had found out most of what he needed. Most of it. It hit him the same instant she dropped the next heap of sheets where they belonged.

Taking the formerly completed stack, Havoc worked on the atmosphere by neatly storing it in the shelf.

"Oh, wait," Hawkeye rose to her feet as well. She lifted a couple of corners of the stack, trying to find where the leftover document in her hand belonged.

"Another thing," he tried hard to sound nonchalant. "Has Hayate ever attacked anyone?" Okay, that had sounded way too accusing.

"He didn't bite Breda if that's what he told you; he only wanted the sandwich and there was no contact of teeth whatsoever," her reply came a tad too immediately.

"No, no," Havoc quickly backtracked. Taking a small detour, he closed the door before aiming for the paperwork. "I mean like, how protective is he? Of you," he specified. The look he got told him he was entering dangerous territory.

"Are you planning to assault me?" her eyes flashed from him to the door. He wanted to facepalm himself. He should have just closed it ages ago, but even so, there was no one around the archive – everyone was avoiding it for as long as it would not be tidy.

"No, of course not! Just…" Havoc bit his lip, her eyes pressuring him into imprudence. "Well, the Colonel mentioned how he was once attacked by a dog who wanted to protect their owner during sex," he said. Stupidly. Her brows were at their peak. She was looking directly at him, her eyes like the trigger of her gun, ready to shoot him any second.

"And?" She challenged. He gulped again. There was no way out of this one. Boy, he needed some coffee.

"And… you have a dog."

"Aand?" she drawled.

"You're a woman," his voice was but a squeak. He was sweating profusely by now, the collar of his uniform suffocating him. The room suddenly seemed smaller.

"Aaand?" she took a step towards him, making him flinch.

"And… and the Colonel… is into women…?" Havoc's voice had risen by two octaves. He could not believe he had just said that. To her face. Practically incriminated her of fraternisation and a most embarrassing incident.

He received a humongous amount of the most tedious paperwork for his audacity. Paperwork and the cold shoulder for the rest of the day. Plus a flick to the head – one he knew to interpret correctly: get it out of there or you're in trouble. He knew well to follow the unspoken threat.

Still, Havoc could not help but notice how throughout the entire interrogation, she had been by far more relaxed than usual. Relaxed to begin with. Owed to exhaustion, perhaps, or maybe she was high or something, he mused, and yet… He was impressed with how far he had gotten, and without ending up with a bullet between his eyes. Spending this much time with the Colonel – outside of work – was doing her good. More than good.

How cruel to think that it was it was only temporarily. Not to mention forbidden.

Roy opened the front door wider with his foot, arms loaded with groceries. He had to go back and forth to his car twice, something that made him indefinitely happy. Groceries for two. And a dog.

Once inside, he kicked the door closed. With a huff, the paper bag landed on the counter, the one already there clinking where the bottles of milk collided. He stored them away quickly, keen on not having his beloved Lieutenant work even more than already.

"Colonel?" tentative steps came down the hall. Even changing into something comfortable and ridding herself of her boots did not ease the remaining pain in her feet, it seemed. "There was a call while you were outside," she reported.

"Oh?" he closed the fridge, finishing just in time when her head poked in.

"A jeweller," she informed. He thought to see her calculate his motive of hurrying up, but her eyes remained on him. Unreadable almost. Lips tight. As if already assuming something – if she did, it would be over for him. Right now, she was bordering suspicious, but puzzlement still overweighed.

"Ah, perfect," Roy casually went to wash his hands, "then I'll just go by after work tomorrow." He turned the water back off, not turning himself. She crossed her arms.

"What are you concocting this time?" Her hip came to lean against the wall, he saw from the corner of his eye, making him want to stare at it. He restrained himself for the success of his mission.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he mustered a cheeky smirk. Her lips pursed, nearly affronted, the slightest of pouts sneaking up no matter how hard she fought back. He inwardly cheered. It had worked; it had actually worked. Now she was thinking he had some undercover investigation or wooing women in mind; and it made her jealous! Life could be sweet. "I think it can wait until tomorrow," he went to take her arm, guiding her back down the hall.

The reluctance to follow really did speak of envy. He would have to be careful not to stretch it.

"If you say so," she plainly replied.

"How about," he directed her towards the bed. She was not one to show pain, but it was evident anyway, which concerned him. "I walk Hayate this afternoon and this evening?" he proposed. Reluctant or not, there was no nudge necessary to make her sit down. She did so gladly and with a short sigh.

"And in turn?" Riza tilted her head. "You really don't have to; you've been working all day just like I have," she added. Of course, even if he did work all day, it would never equal her standard. With the exact same paperwork to complete, she would still be more exhausted due to the thought she put into it. And brought home with her.

Instead of answering right away, Roy kneeled on the floor. Taking her feet with little resistance, he placed them in his lap. "These have had their fair share of running around," he simply said. Stroking over the backs of her feet, he lured out a tiny curling of her toes. Increasing the caresses, he found her ankles to feel rather different – not to mention differ in size. One of them was swollen, lightly throbbing even. "And this isn't looking too peachy yet either," he mumbled, inspecting it.

It earned him a gentle chuckle. "Peachy…" she sighed again, noiselessly, tiredly. "You spoil me," Riza leaned back on her hands, visibly relaxing. Just you wait, he wanted to say.

"Mmh, and with delight," he hummed instead. "You look tired anyway; why not take a nice long nap while we're out?" he offered a smile. She shook her head.

"It's only—" she tilted her head all the way back, supporting herself on her elbows behind her, "quarter past six," she stated. "We really got off early today," she noted.

"Did you have something in mind for dinner?" he ceased all discussion. She could use a good 24 hours of sleep, but if she did not want to, she did not want to. Staying and forcing her to lie down by cuddling might have helped, but he needed to walk the dog.

And complete his self-imposed goal.

Hayate wined in the hall. His signal to get up. Careful not to hurt her ankle, Roy replaced her feet on the ground.

"I was thinking liver with thoroughly cooked mushrooms, bell pepper and aubergine," she smiled friendlily. His own smile froze.

"My favourite," he pretended to hold back a gag, making her giggle. "I think we'll be taking a nice long walk; maybe pass a takeaway," he grinned. Another laugh, then a hum when he leaned on the bed, caging her in to press a long kiss to her lips. "Don't you dare cook that," he murmured as if seducing her.

With her giggle in his ear, Roy then took Hayate for a walk. A walk to the jeweller.