Hello! In case you don't know me, I'm Nausika. Welcome to my Universe.
This'll be a collection of Royai Mission shorts, unrelated to one another and probably all playing before or during the first half of the Manga (so Manga/2009 Anime verse).
I'll include short summaries at the beginning of each chapter because I myself always look for something in particular when reading FanFics, but if you don't want to get spoiled, you can just skip it. I'll try to keep them vague.
Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy and won't hesitate to let me know what you think or if you found any errors (English is not my native language).
Roy and Havoc have been compelled into a nightly stakeout, and Havoc wonders why the Colonel returns warm and cosy from his break during a freezing cold night.
A Break In Heaven
Havoc groaned, rubbing his face. Finally. It was finally break time, his wristwatch striking quarter to two in the morning. He hated stakeouts, especially when stationed at the top of a communication tower. The wind howled mercilessly, and the sky was grim and dark. At least it was not raining, he thought to himself as he huddled his blanket closer around himself. His behind ached from having sat on the cold hard metal all night.
The best part – namely the shift change – of the stakeout had begun and oh boy was it still miserable. Two officers climbed up to begin their shift, saluting as the Colonel stood. He then crossed over to the ladder. Havoc frowned.
"Hey, Colonel," he hobbled after him, wondering where the Flame Alchemist was going in those roughly twenty minutes of rest they got between shifts. Mustang glanced up from already descending the ladder. He looked to be in a hurry, but Havoc could not imagine him to be going home – his place was more than ten minutes away, and by car. There was no lower level that had walls to at least protect from the biting wind, so Havoc really had no idea what his superior was up to.
"I'll be back before the next shift starts, don't worry," Mustang courtly said, then slowly disappeared in the darkness down below. Havoc scratched the back of his head, then went back to sit against the mast, wrapping himself back up in his blanket. He wanted to close his eyes, to allow himself to rest for the next few minutes until he had to watch the streets again, but his thoughts kept him awake.
The Colonel had not brought his car. Sleeping in there would have been way too risky to begin with. The streets were said to be crawling with delinquents that night, not that they had seen a single one so far.
So Havoc shuffled back up to the end of the platform, opposite the soldiers on duty, focusing on the small figure that was his superior as it reached the ground, whisking across the street and right into the first building. Havoc frowned. Why did he have a key to some nearby block of flats?
Not two minutes later, there shone a single room's light through its curtains, then it turned off again. About fifteen minutes passed until the Colonel emerged from the building, more on time that he had been at the beginning of their very first shift. The other two officers left when Mustang reached the top platform – lucky bastards, Havoc thought, wishing to have their time schedule of a single shift. Or merely a different lookout, he cursed, drawing his legs closer to himself as he shivered.
But they had been slacking off at the office, the number of hours they had to perform during this stakeout a means of punishment from the higher-ups. The precise reason why neither Hawkeye, nor Fuery or Falman had been stationed to begin with.
His brain did not have the time to wonder about how Breda was fairing – another fortunate soul, the mercy of the interior of a building on his side – when the Colonel strode back to his post. He seemed almost well rested, and he was warm, so Havoc noticed immediately when he felt the abating sleep warmth radiate off his superior, making his own frozen form squirm towards him involuntarily.
"Where have you been?" Havoc asked between gritted teeth to keep them from rattling. He pulled his blanket higher up his neck, yearning for another coat, a hat, anything.
"Just down the street," Mustang coolly replied, keeping his eyes on the empty city. Pretending a little too hard to be nonchalant, Havoc plainly saw. Another shiver travelled down his back. He glanced at his watch. Ten past two. Another two hours and twenty minutes to be frozen to the bone – enough time to squeeze the truth out of his boss.
Roy fiddled with the key. His fingers were stiff and white from the cold.
"Did you rent a place just for this mission?" Havoc asked in a lowered voice behind him.
"Shut up or I'll leave you here," Roy hissed, and his second Lieutenant stopped complaining at once. The bare concrete entrance was already a blessing, and Roy, too, felt his frozen limbs to be to burning in the sudden warmth, at least in comparison to outside. Soon, he would re-enter heaven. A sigh of pleasant anticipation escaped him at the thought, his steps swift and light as he led the way up the stairs. This time, he did not flick on the lights after unlocking the door to her flat.
Hayate greeted the men as they shuffled out of their boots. Havoc still wore a frown, looking around in search of recognition, but Roy doubted he had ever been to the Lieutenant's place before. He must have realised when the dog's nose prodded his shin, a sly smirk settling on his lips. Roy shot him a glare of warning, then pointed at the couch.
Obediently – more than grateful for not only the lack of icy wind but the softness of an old couch – Havoc slumped down. Roy grimaced at the squeak it made, but let it go, not wanting to raise his voice. He followed the dog to the bedroom, oblivious to his subordinate using the creaking of the door to get back up without being heard.
In time with the Colonel's steps, Havoc snuck up to the ajar bedroom door. Peeking around the corner without so much as making a noise, he peered into the darkness. The Colonel dragged himself over to the bed beneath the window. Hardly any light filtered in, but Havoc could make out a silhouette beneath the sheets. It scooted backwards, one arm lifting as if automatically, inviting into the warm haven of the sheets.
Mustang slumped into the mattress, deflating with a sigh. She tucked him in, her arm hugging the blanket to him around his back. The other came up from beneath his head, and he snuggled into her chest, his own arms forming lumps beneath the sheets where he wound them around her.
"You're not alone," Hawkeye softly noted. A vague hum resonated against her sternum in response. Havoc's heartbeat shot up into his throat and he prayed she would not look up to find the shadow of his head sticking into the room. But her eyes remained closed, and he knew she must have been tired as well from being woken up for the second time now. "Ten minutes?" she asked, slender fingers threading through raven black hair. Again, he grunted.
"Fifteen," he bargained.
"When do you have to be back?" she countered, and he remained quiet. They needed the time to get back up to their post, she knew. Now it made sense why he had been so unusually punctual. Havoc smirked to himself. It also dawned on him why the Colonel had not minded being chosen for the worst, most unforgivingly cold post. At least protested a lot less than expected.
There was no way to see the fond smile she directed at her superior, but the lightest of smacks could be heard when she pressed her lips to the top of his head.
Creeping back to the couch, Havoc sank into the cushions with a relieved sigh. At least it was warm, he thought as his eyes fell shut. At least he would be able to sleep for roughly ten minutes until the next shift, his mind drifting off and into a deep slumber within seconds.
At the sound of crackling, Riza was the only one to rouse. Hayate lifted his head then, trotting over to the faint mumbling of the headphones the Colonel had dropped next to the bed. She shook Roy lightly, and he blinked at her through hazy eyes. One could hardly call him awake.
Propping herself up, Riza retrieved the headphones, having to pull on them to extend the cable from the backpack. She held one side to Roy's ear, and he mumbled unhappily, groggily, until his senses returned to him and he actually listened to what was being said. She could not answer in his stead – there was no way she could imitate the low timber of his voice.
"Huh… uhuh, copy that," Roy muttered sleepily, his head sinking down into the pillow again, "over and out," he said, and the buzzing of far-away voices stopped a moment after. Forced to let the device drop to the floor when he snaked his arms back around her, she waited until he had finished nuzzling his face into her cleavage again. She let out a sigh, restraining from rolling her eyes.
"What did they say?" she asked. It took another moment for him to react, and he only did once she poked his cheek, earning herself a scowl.
"They caught them," he yawned, his exhale tickling her skin, "mission's over," he declared, pressing a smile to her chest. A smile of her own formed, and she exhaled in relief, glad that she did not have to mind the time and wake him again. Ignoring the blush on her cheeks at how he squished his chin between her breasts, Riza dozed back off herself, not even waking from the sound of Havoc tiptoeing into the bathroom early that morning.
Unable to help himself, he snuck another glance into the bedroom.
It was not yet six, but the dim morning light filtered through the thin curtain. The Colonel was still sleeping soundly with his face nuzzled into his Lieutenant's chest. Her arm around his back had slackened, his apparently quite the opposite. Clinging to her with all of his drowsy might, he hogged her tightly, enough to pull her sleeve down her shoulder. Havoc inwardly cursed at how that messy black head of hair blocked the view of quite possibly more than just her exposed shoulder.
Nonetheless, it caught his eye. It was even slimmer than he would have expected, fine and pale in contrary to what the military uniform made one believe with its cumbersome, angular shape. With more and more sunlight filtering through the crack between the curtains, he could only just make out a white streak, barely able to see the other dozens of faint scars that clustered her skin.
Leaving the peaceful couple, he sauntered back over to the couch. Dozing off almost immediately, he did not even come to ponder as to why they had not gotten up for their next stakeout shift. And anyway, not having to head back out was too good.
The next time he roused, Havoc had to raise his head off the pillow, red streaks lining his cheeks. There was a high-pitch whistle, almost making him drop down onto the floor. He shot up straight anyway, the realisation of having slept through the mission rushing back to him all of a sudden.
"I'm sorry, I did mean to take it off before," the Lieutenant's voice interrupted his mild panic. Turning, he saw her turn off the stove in that tiny kitchen area of hers, holding a kettle with the aid of a pot cloth in the other hand. "Tea or Coffee?" she asked, tilting her head. Golden blond hair fell over her shoulders, and she was wearing a casual blouse and pencil skirt that reached just over her knees. She was more than pretty, and he swallowed at the tiny beat his heart skipped.
If the Colonel would have known, he would have been dead, well done meat.
"Coffee," Havoc managed, sitting back down. Three cups lined up on the table, and he noticed how only one of them had the label of a tea bag hanging out. Taking in his surroundings for the first time, he found her not to own a coffee machine, not surprised when she chose the sole teacup, then produced a bag of her superior's favourite coffee brand from the overhead cupboard.
The bedroom door creaked, and Havoc half expected the Colonel to emerge in a fresh set of his own clothing, storing more than just coffee at his Lieutenant's place. Uttering a greeting – though rather in the form of unintelligible grumbling than words – Mustang donned what looked like her bathrobe and trudged over to where she filled their cups with hot water.
He did not stop where Havoc would have expected him to. Instead, the Colonel somewhat merged into his Lieutenant, one arm wrapping around her waist. He leaned his head down, and Havoc's brows shot up, just when the Colonel suddenly noticed him. Stiffening in what was bound to have become a habitual good morning peck on the cheek, Mustang blankly stared into with amusement twinkling eyes.
Sucking in a breath, Riza fleetly wound herself out and beamed away to replace the kettle onto the stove – conveniently turning her back on them. Havoc had to bite his tongue as not to burst out laughing. The original shock on his superior's face slowly melted into a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment. And anger, but there was no way the teasing smirk on Havoc's lips would relax any time soon.
"Sleep well, chief?" he mocked, wiggling his brows suggestively. Mustang, indecisive whether to huff a brag or pretend not to care, decided on a growl. Hawkeye meanwhile noisily filled Hayate's bowl with his breakfast, and the two men watched as she had her dog perform a few basic commands before giving permission for him to eat.
"Remember you have a meeting at ten," Riza reminded. She picked up Roy's cup, handing it to him, then gave Havoc his own coffee.
"What happened?" Havoc asked, sipping the hot beverage. Too hot, he painfully learned, frowning at the Colonel who took a huge gulp as if it were merely lukewarm.
"They caught the suspects last night during your break," Riza explained, not yet touching her own tea. "They said there will be an assembly of all involved troops this morning," she elaborated, and both men groaned.
"On a Sunday," Havoc sighed.
"Bloody thieves…" Roy agreed.
It did not take long until he returned from the bathroom, this time in his own jacket, though Havoc could not shake the feeling that it was not the same as the day before. There was not a single wrinkle on it, merely lines from having been folded. Waiting for his superior in the entrance, Havoc heard the two speak in a low volume next door, audible but not understandable. Joining the Second Lieutenant a moment later, the Colonel fiddled with a clinking key in his pocket, stuffing it away as if it was his own. Not fooling anyone.