Yay! Another story! And, because Fitchy BEGGED for it (and because she wrote something for me first...) I give you RoyxRiza. And also, someone asked for some EdWin. So, since I hate writing BOTH, I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone and write BOTH in one story. I'm so clever. XD Lots of love to Fitchy, Royai Queen, grounded from her computer until NEXT YEAR. X.X Everyone give love to Fitchy! XD (Bye the way, Fitchy is Dixie Cup of Doom on this site. Check her out.)
Disclaimer: Still don't. Shame, huh?
Enjoy!
Colonel Roy Mustang had his pick of women, certainly. Once upon a time, his calendar had been decorated with every color of the rainbow and then some – one color for each girl that he deemed dateable, along with the day and time he saw fit to charm them. At that time, his work schedule revolved around his date schedule, and never the opposite, simply because he believed dating to be far more important. That was just the way things worked.
When Roy left the office anywhere between thirty minutes to six hours early, Havoc forged his signature on several important-looking documents, Falman filed them, Breda enjoyed a sandwich, and Fuery chastised them softly in the background – even though he never really meant it. And if Roy came in looking a little bit more tired than usual the next morning, clinging to his coffee mug like a lifeline, no one asked questions. Havoc forged his signature on several important-looking documents as Roy snoozed serenely on one of the office couches, Falman tiptoed around the office filing them, Breda enjoyed his sandwich more quietly (which entailed removing the lettuce – always a tragedy, but a sacrifice he was willing to make), and Fuery didn't bother chastising at all, because he never really meant it anyway.
It was a wonder that anything ever got done around that contented little male-dominated office – really, it was. But what was far more amazing was that the five were continually rewarded for their laziness. The years saw stars and badges accumulating on Roy Mustang's lapel, evidence of a rank already impressive for such a young man, and still steadily climbing.
It was when Roy had finally achieve the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel and acquired his own, fully furnished office (complete with coffee pot and impressively stocked bookshelves) at Central Headquarters ("THE Central Headquarters!" Fuery had marveled.) that it was recommended the impressive soldier and enforcer of the peace, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang spread his wisdom – take on a protégée. A fresh-faced private by the name of Riza Hawkeye.
Things had never been the same since.
It quickly became evident that she was not just any private. She was not just any woman either. She was frightening. She was forceful. She was mad.
She was breathtaking, and Roy was in love before he knew what had hit him. Because he had never truly known love, only a lustful mockery of it – a young man's hormonal urges and dabbles in human sexuality. But this was utterly and completely different. Never before had his heart quickened when a woman simply entered the room. Never had he pulled a chair or opened a door for a lady so courteously, so sickeningly polite. Never had he been at a loss for words when a woman spoke to him, this trait of his lovesickness proved most surprising – Roy Mustang always knew what to say.
Riza rose in the ranks fast, faster even than Roy and his motley crew, and the reason was obvious as the ever-present smirk on Roy's face. He adored having her at his side, and he desperately wished for her to remain there. So he made a few calls, and his wish was granted. And if she minded that he showed up one morning with a contract binding her to the military and to his side for as long as the state saw fit, she didn't show it, and she signed without hesitation. Her hand trembled slightly as she sold her soul away, though, and her signature was scrawled untidily, a characteristic most unbefitting of her. But when the pen was set again atop the table and Riza was presented with her new, military-issue firearm, she flashed a smile, and Roy couldn't help but return it. Not in a witty smirk and not in a wry grin, but in a genuine smile that he would only give to one person besides – a little boy with striking golden eyes.
"Congratulations Lieutenant. Welcome to the team." She had beamed at him then, and replied firmly, though there was a softness to her voice that suggested she was utterly touched by the gesture, touched to be accepted into this group of men, touched that despite her brash enforcement, they were welcoming her.
"Thank you, sir. I promise I won't let you down." And she wouldn't. She would stay by his side, absolutely loyal, true, and devoted just as the rest of his subordinates were. But she would even take the faithfulness a step further, making him a promise that she would kill for him without hesitation after the first time that she ever had to do so. It had been her first time, she said – killing a man. But she hadn't paused in fear or cowardice even as her index finger closed around the trigger.
It would be about six months before Roy stopped blushing when she entered the room, but he did indeed manage to hide his inadvertent displays of affection that had not gone unnoticed by everyone except Hawkeye herself. He was profoundly grateful for that.
There would only be one more addition to their team after Hawkeye – the aforementioned little boy with startling gold eyes, and it was with him that Roy was chatting now, not exactly sure how he came to find himself talking this, of all things, over with this particular child.
"You bought WHO flowers!" He looks at Roy incredulously, his tone laughing and cynical. Not reassuring. Not at all helpful.
"You have made me sorry that I told you, Fullmetal." Roy responds calmly, his only sign of annoyance being a slight, instinctive twitch to the fingers of his right hand.
He has to give Edward credit, really, because he tries to straighten his face and treat the matter as an adult would, but he isn't an adult, nor is he a child. No, he is worse. He is a teenager, one inexperienced in matters involving love, and he acts like one, despite his urgent desire to be treated differently. And so, rather than the straight face Edward intended, it comes out as a pained looking frown strained against laughter, unnatural looking on a face whose eyes are shining with humor.
Roy sighs and puts a hand over his eyes. "You're not fooling anyone Edward." And at the prompt, Edward breaks out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.
"I-I'm sorry, Colonel. But Hawkeye? You and Hawkeye? Hawkeye and – "
"YES, Hawkeye and I." Roy manages through gritted teeth.
"I'm not seeing it." He wipes a stray tear from the corner of his eye with an automail finger.
"For your information, I have had a fondness for her for quite some time now." A flush burns its way across Roy's face, and he feels it coming, but is unable to stop its arrival.
"Then what's up with the ladies I always see you hangin' around?" Edward squawks indignantly.
"I don't know what you mean." Of course he knows, but he prefers to make Edward work for his satisfaction.
"Of course you know! Melinda? Cookie? Clarissa? Lucy? Rita? Candy? For fuck's sake! There's hundreds of them! Every time I come in here, there's a new one, and as far as I know, you don't get rid of any of the old ones!" He counts their names off on one hand and then the other. Roy remains silent, and then, in a whisper –
"Melinda moved to East City..."
Ed rolls his eyes, and then, sarcastic, "OH! Well! Stop the presses. One less girl for Colonel Mustang. What a tragedy!" Roy huffs silently behind his desk, making it painfully obvious that what the boy is saying is positively true.
Ed continues, "And maybe it wouldn't be so awful if there were anything to these girls, but godammit Colonel, Candy didn't even remember her fucking name!" Roy's eyes continue to burn fiercely with shame.
"She was having an off day." He responds simply.
"Oh, guess who I am, Colonel!" Ed stands abruptly and pulls his coat tightly around himself, pulling his hair free of its confines as he does so, making his way over to Roy's desk.
"Oh, SIR!" Is Fullmetal...mocking me? "It appears I've lost my way, and can't find the direction to the nearest shopping facility!" Ed bats his eyelashes in Roy's direction, leaving Roy wondering what exactly has gotten into Fullmetal's head. Then, leaning heavily on Roy's desk, he traces lazy circles into the woodwork and begins again, voice irritatingly high pitched. "What's that you say! A Colonel! My, you are an important man! What's that you say? You're THE Mr. Mustang, the hero of Ishbal! You don't say! Oh Colonel, you DO go on!" It is then that Roy has had too much of Edward making a mockery of his dating life, and he snaps – an act that would have been far more meaningful had Roy been wearing his spark gloves. So, instead of the desired effect (namely, Ed cowering in fear while Roy leered over him menacingly) Ed breaks into another bout of howling laughter.
"While you do play the part of a woman quite well, Fullmetal," Ed snorts indignantly, "That's quite enough of that. I don't think that I will be confiding my personal feelings with you again." With that, Ed's face straightens suddenly. The transition is amazing – he goes from rolling on the floor to an utterly somber expression in seconds. He reties his hair in a high ponytail after failing an attempt at the braid (his automail fingers continually getting stuck in the sections and pulling out large chunks at a time), and looks solemnly at Roy.
"I'm sorry." And then he is a big brother – not a friend, Roy notices – a big brother. Which, given the circumstances, seems rather absurd. But the expression in his eyes looks like something one would see when he was gazing fondly at his little brother, or protecting him, and Roy is touched. "Really. Go on." Roy takes the advice, because as heartless as Ed had been before, he seems utterly genuine now.
"Anyway. Riza is very special to me, but she...she doesn't seem to like the flowers."
"Well, duh." Ed smiles knowingly, and it troubles Roy for a moment that Edward knows something that he, Roy Mustang, does not.
"Duh?"
"Yes, duh."
"Why duh?"
"Because Riza is special, trust me."
"And why should I trust you?"
"Because I have a girl like that back home in Rizenbul," at that, Ed blushes noticeably, because he can see the same knowing smile he was wearing seconds ago leaving his own face and spreading across Roy's.
"Oh, do you?"
"Hey, look, do you want my help or not!" The last word spikes drastically upward in pitch, evidence of a newly changed voice and a body still growing. Roy has to stifle a giggle into his hand at the flustered look now present on Ed's face.
"Of course, Edward. Forgive me."
"Anyway, girls like Riza, they're not gonna like the normal stuff like flowers and candy and teddy bears and whatever the hell all your floosies like." He's trying desperately to regain his dignity, Roy can tell, and he humors the boy – because he really is trying.
"And what exactly do they like?"
"Y'know...stuff."
"If I knew the types of 'stuff,' as you so eloquently put it, I wouldn't be asking."
"Like...like wrenches." Another blush.
"So you want me to buy Riza a wrench?" Roy's lips curve into the starts of a smile.
"No, no, no you idiot! That's not what I meant!"
"Well then, what exactly DO you MEAN, Edward?" And as quickly as the corners of his mouth had risen, frustration tugs them downward again.
"Well, I buy Win– this girl," Roy barely has time to hide a smirk before Ed continues, "wrenches. Because that is what she likes, and that is what she uses. If you know what she likes, and you buy her something special, then she knows you're paying attention. You know? Anyone can buy flowers, but when you really need to think about a gift, that's when they appreciate it." He falls silent again, looking at his twiddling thumbs, his face reddening. Roy lets Ed stew in his embarrassment for a moment before relieving him of it.
"Hmm...You know, you've got a point." Hopeful golden eyes rise to meet laughing black ones.
"Really?" He says, and his voice is childlike with relief.
"Yes, I see what you mean. But for girls as simple as Candy, all that you need to get them into be–" Edward's face clouds with momentary confusion, and Roy stops himself, clearing his throat. "Ahem...to uh...woo them, so to speak, is flowers." The confusion is gone, and Roy allows himself a sigh of relief. One of these days, I'm – no...RIZA is going to have to give that kid a talk. Yes. Riza. And with a self-satisfied nod, he resumes the conversation.
"Oh...yeah...I guess."
"So, Ed. What do you recommend?"
He gives a noncommital shrug, "You're around her more often than I am; you tell me."
Roy takes a moment to consider, but comes up with nothing.
"I don't know."
"Well you better get to thinking."
"Thank you, Fullmetal. You have got to be the most helpful shrimp that I know."
"Of course I'm – hey! Who're you calling – "
But thankfully, before Ed's temper has risen to its climax, a timid knock comes on the door, closely followed by a muffled, "Brother? Are you in there?"
"Aw, shit! Colonel! Al's gonna take me to have my automail ports checked!" Fury lost in a moment of panic, Ed jumps to his feet and paces wildly around the room.
"Do they need to be checked, Ed?"
"Well...the arm has been acting up a bit...but godammit, it hurts!" Ed grabs at his right arm for emphasis.
"He's in here, Alphonse." A venomous glare is shot in his direction, immediately followed by a muttered "Traitor..." and the entrance of Alphonse.
"There you are, Brother! I've been looking all over. We have to go."
Before he turns to leave, Ed looks at him in that big brotherly way again, and offers his last words of advice. "Look, I know you know her well enough. Just – just think of her, and try to pinpoint the first thing that comes to mind. That should help." And with that, Ed shuffles out of the office without further argument, shoulders slumped and feet dragging.
"Thank you Mr. Mustang!" Al bows with noises that resemble the clanking of pots and pans and hurries out of the office. His polite reprimands and Edward's mumbled responses could be heard for another moment before the pair exited the office.
In the silence of his office, Roy settles into his chair to think, bringing an image Riza's beautiful face to the front of his mind.
Roy would later be ashamed to admit that his hands shake a bit as he approaches her doorway. He is wearing his finest suit and there is a fine dusting of snow from the storm outside on his shoulders and in his hair. He is nervous, and rightfully so, but the parcel nestled in his hand gives him newfound confidence as he reaches for the bell. However, before he even has a chance to ring, Black Hayate's wild barking sounds from inside, closely followed by the sound of Riza's firm command of, "SIT."
When the door opens, and he sees Riza Hawkeye beyond it, resplendent in Roy's eyes despite the fact that her hair is mussed and she is clad only in baggy pajama's; Roy loses all rational thought.
She is, Roy contemplates with his eyes glazed and his mouth hanging open stupidly, a vision of beauty. She is elegant as she returns her pistol to its place in her ankle holster. She is the very definition of flawlessness as her lips curve and twitch slightly in confusion. She is not a work of art, no, she is better; her eyes sparkle with more depth than any medium could properly interpret, and her curves are too soft and gentle to be portrayed in any two dimensional rendition of her likeness. She is perfect. She is...she is...she is talking to me!
"Lieutenant Hawkeye! Hel– hello!"
"Colonel, are you alright? I asked what you were doing here." Concern laces her features.
"I...uh...well...brought...I brought you...gift?" He smiles sheepishly, hoping desperately that Riza is fluent in gibberish. Roy is lucky; she is.
"You did?" She sounds taken aback. "I..." Without waiting for her to complete the sentence, he thrusts a magnificently wrapped box into her hands and blushes furiously.
"Thank you, sir."
"Ah...um...you can um...open it." Leaning against the doorframe, she begins to tear eagerly at the golden paper, letting the card drop onto the floor unnoticed.
"A gun cleaning kit?" Her tone is somewhat critical, and at that, Roy switches to Plan B, hurriedly pulling a second parcel from his pocket.
"I bought you candy too!" And he presents it to her proudly.
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?"
"I don't need anything more than this. This is wonderful, Roy." He flushes at the use of his first name and looks fondly at her. They stand like that for another moment, gazing silently at one another's vacant expressions, before Riza declares that it is late and she must be getting to bed. Roy stammers his agreement, and the door slams unceremoniously in his face.
He stares at the closed door for a moment, still running over the last five minutes in his mind, wondering where on Earth he made his fatal mistake. Suddenly, the door reopens and he is again struck by the force of Riza's beauty. Her face is now tear-stained, and the card she had let fall to the floor moments before is clutched to her chest.
"Would you like to come in?" And shaking the snow from his he suit, he graciously steps inside.
"So, how'd it go with Hawkeye?" Edward asks the morning after.
Dear Riza,
"Very well, actually. I took your advice to heart, with a few personal touches to your little theory, of course." Roy responds.
I distinctly remember your scent the first time you stepped into my office. It tingled my nostrils, tortured me; I had no idea what it really was at first.
"...Really? Like what?"
Metallic and sharp, strange...but somehow so beautiful and somehow so...fitting. I wouldn't know what it was until later, until I remembered, really remembered, Ishbal. You smelled like gunpowder.
"A note."
You wreaked of it, and I should have hated you for that – should have hated you for reminding me of exactly what I loathed most.
"A note? You're a sap, you know that?"
But I didn't.
"She seemed to like it."
I couldn't, and that says a lot about how strongly I feel for you.
"Don't tell me you made her cry?"
Because certainly, Ishbal had drastic effects on me, changed me, made me into the soldier that I am today.
"Maybe I did."
But to say that the way you affected me was even greater, had the power to make me forget Ishbal, if only for a moment, was more significant than I can tell you.
"Well, what did it say?"
Thus the reason for the gun cleaning kit. I know, I know. Lousy excuse for a lousy present.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Buy hey, it took some thought. And if anything, you can use it to bash me in the head when I'm not getting work done.
"I would!"
Thinking of you,
"Maybe someday, Ed."
Roy Mustang
"Maybe someday."
I know. God awful. But I do try...it's just...I write romance better than angst (because I don't actually READ romance - only copious amounts of angst). And please excuse errors in the tense...I tried writing in present this time, just to change it up, but I'm used to writing in past. Sorry! I really do appreciate reviews. Please? They make me very, very happy. :D Plus, I have a cold right now. D: TAKE PITY ON ME! Reviews will make my cold go away. :nod:
Love to all my reviewers. You guys rock.