author's note: Thank you to RGaijin, Fatal Mars and InuNaruPokeAlchemist for your wonderful feedback. I appreciate it!

One Room
Chapter 3.

Miles mentally cursed when he dropped the telephone. Over the past several minutes he was attempting to receive signal to have a decent conversation with his Major General, but as far as his plans were going, the two would only manage to pass a quick and rather miserable "hello". This upset him more than it should, and in these few minutes he hated Ishval and its shitty environment.

Nevertheless, he needed to work and pronto. As much as he loved to hear Olivier's voice, Miles had to put his priorities straight. After all, she was only his commanding officer and being his commanding officer she, of all people, should understand the situation.

He wasn't sure whether to feel flattered or worried she decided to check on how things were going. Maybe Olivier had an ulterior motive, but Miles wouldn't dare ask.

Once she arrived the Major hurried for her, stopped and saluted. He wasn't conscious of the crooked grin over his face. For some reason he was excited she had appeared. Eager to show her the work created, Miles gently tapped her shoulder –– a move he usually did whenever enthusiastic to reveal something (Olivier found this childish) –– and escorted the woman into the small village of Kanda.

'The majority of workers have a day off,' Miles said. 'Yesterday was the worst: it was scorching and several people ended up fainting. I realised we had been working for too long, so decided to give everyone a break for the day. After all, several Ishvalans were insisting we stop building for a while.'

He frowned.

'I hope for good reason.'

Olivier was impressed. Already construction had started. In fact, several houses looked complete and the stench which usually controlled Ishval was gone completely. Life was starting to reveal itself again, and, put simply, this made her happy. Happy for the Ishvalans, their land and him.

For years and years Miles had dreamed of restoring the abandoned land. She had supported him as much as she could, but only recently Miles was given opportunities. He showed his independence through searching for people to help him and not needing his commanding officer to push him.

He was strong. In some ways, much stronger than she would ever be.

Strong enough to be a commanding officer.

This pulled a heart string.

Once Ishval was perfect again, would Miles abandon her and form an army of his own here? It would be a wise and sensible choice to make. Ishval needed protection. It needed an army; soldiers –– a defence. Miles was the man to make this all possible.

'I wouldn't ponder over what they think,' Olivier responded. 'If anything they should feel grateful with all you've done.' She stopped there, in case she might say something stupid and unlike herself.

Much to Olivier's displeasure she spotted a black-haired man approaching them, dressed in military trousers and a white, moist t-shirt. Mustang was working apparently, a spade over his shoulder whilst he beamed at her.

'How lovely to see such a radiant face.'

'Go die in a hole.'

'Charming as always,' Roy turned to Miles, and at once his tone lost its cheekiness. 'Lieutenant Quick wants to speak with you about the temple.'

The Major nodded. 'Is there something wrong?'

'No. Actually maybe. Some Ishvalans are complaining about the structure. It's too... showy.'

Miles nodded. 'The showy part wasn't my idea.' He faced Olivier. 'Do you mind if I leave you here, sir? I'll be right back.'

'Take your time,' Olivier replied. 'I can find some entertainment.' She avoided Mustang's gaze. In all honesty, the main reason she came was to see Miles. As much as she hated to admit it, Olivier had missed him dearly. However she should have known he would be busy. Even on days off.

His smile caused a flutter in her belly. Olivier looked away, waited until Miles' footsteps were gone before approaching a half constructed building. Her mind was too focussed on the man who had just deserted her to bother over Mustang, who happily followed her.

There was a beat.

'You should just tell him.'

At once her entire body stiffened. Olivier shot a horrific glare at the man. 'Tell him what?'

However Roy was immune to her looks. She was an old childhood friend and by now was used to it. 'I don't think I need to answer that. You got to admit, the work he's done is pretty good. I wouldn't have been able to do so much alone.'

Olivier folded her arms. 'Don't get cocky. You weren't the first with the idea. Miles would have managed without you either way.' The man smirked. Pride in her men wasn't unusual. He would have responded the same.

'It's benefited the military too,' he said. Roy met her gaze, before gesturing towards one of the tents nearby. 'Come inside and we'll have some tea. While this place is a dump, their tea is nice.'

Sighing, Olivier followed suit. She had nothing better to do anyway.

His tent was small, but big enough for three people. Whilst Roy dealt with the warm drink, Olivier removed a layer of clothing so she was left in her black turtleneck top, before finding a chair to sit on. Mustang passed her the drink and vacated the seat opposite. It was cooler in the tent.

'Nice of you to drop by,' Roy said. 'I think it touched Miles more than he showed.'

'How have the Ishvalans been treating you?' Olivier asked, deliberately swerving the topic off her Major.

'Better. In fact, much better. If it weren't for Miles and Scar, I'd have difficulty to get along with them... What's wrong?'

She looked at him abruptly, surprised with the question.

'You seem down.'

'I'm fine,' Olivier snapped.

'Really.'

She rolled her eyes.

Mustang's gaze remained fixed to her, before he stood to his feet and grabbed a bottle of alcohol. She observed whilst he poured two pints, took the warm drink off her and replaced it with the glass.

'It'll help.'

'Fuck you, Mustang.' Olivier pulled a crooked smile.

'I can relate.'

She scoffed, then realised Roy wasn't joking around. He was serious. Even concerned. Did he know? Did he remember the ridiculous scene at the pub where Olivier kissed Miles? Despite his dorky side, Mustang was smart.

Sometimes she hated that about him.

'He's not even my type.'

It came out before she could register the words. Olivier mentally cursed to herself, waiting for Roy to point and laugh. He didn't though. His expression softened, and he ran a hand through his messy hair.

Afraid she would say anything else, Olivier downed half of the pint in one go.

'... Fuck, I should stop doing that.'

'Nah, alcohol is good for you,' Mustang said.

'Uh-Huh. Like drugs, you mean?'

'Technically alcohol is a drug.'

'I knew that.'

He lowered his head and stared at the alcohol for a moment. And then: 'You should tell him. In your own time, of course. It hurts, I know. Hell, I know.' Roy propped himself on his knee. 'I sympathise.'

'I don't need your pity.'

'Well you're having it whether you like it or not.' Mustang shrugged. 'Have you slept with him?'

Her reaction was applauding. Olivier looked as if Roy had grown a third limb. 'Excuse me?'

'It's just a question.'

'I hold many secrets, Roy. The majority your ears don't need to hear.'

She downed the rest of her drink and stood up. Dizziness made her stumble slightly, but she refused to admit she had drunk herself stupid. Not again, dammit. Fuck Mustang. Fuck Miles. Fuck Buccaneer's ghost. Fuck Briggs. Fuck herself. Fuck that one room at the hotel. Fuck everything.

Shoving the empty glass into Roy's chest, Olivier stormed out of the tent only to collide straight into Miles. He held her arms to support her, but she roughly pushed him away.

'Sir?'

Olivier blinked hard. A ball formed in her throat when she realised she was slowly losing her sober stature. The urge to cry was ridiculous. Everything was a mess.

'Can I... Can I sit somewhere?'

Her voice gave her away completely. Olivier snarled.

'Anywhere?'

'Of course,' Miles replied at once. He narrowed his brows, claimed her wrist and took her towards another tent. Sober or not, she knew it was his. Smells of him. Olivier loved his smell: gunpowder, aftershave... strawberries?

Wait, what?

'Your wound.' Olivier claimed his sleeve and looked up at him. Even though it had been weeks ago, the image of a harpoon stabbed into Miles' chest still made her panic, still made her upset. 'How is it?'

'Fine.' He was distracted. Miles didn't care about his wound. He cared about her. He was aware she was tipsy. That damn Mustang. Noting to say a few words to the superior officer, Miles took hold of Olivier's hand and led her towards his bed. 'You need to sleep.'

'I don't need to sleep,' she insisted.

'You do.'

'Miles! Don't tell me what to do.'

It was a tone he feared greatly. Miles froze at once. However he couldn't backdown. She needed to be disciplined as well and if no one had the guts to do such, then he needed to step in.

'Sir, you're drunk and the least you can do is get out of my way.'

He immediately regretted his words. Olivier wasn't in his way at all. A mixture of apologies zoomed through his head but never left his lips. They stared at each other for a couple of seconds. It was agonising. His ears burned.

Then her eyes lowered. He had hurt her. And this broke his heart. Of all people to harm, Olivier was the last person.

'Huh.' It was quiet. Her voice was merely a whisper. 'I see.' She smiled, but it was a cruel, cold one. 'Then I have no reason to be here.'

'Sir...' He reached for her, but she slapped his hand away.

Olivier felt pathetic. She stood to her feet and made her way for the exit, determined to leave the Major as soon as possible. Whatever foolish mistakes she made afterwards were none of her concern. She could cry and scream into her pillow for being so silly. She just needed to go.

However she didn't cry. Not for anyone. Olivier swallowed, rolled back her shoulders and left the tent, her confidence returning. The fresh air helped immensely.

'Sir!' Miles called.

Olivier jarred her teeth. 'Go back to work, Major!'

But deep down she wished he would follow.

Like he always had.

A year passed, but it felt like a lifetime.

Like shy, just-broken-up school students, they slowly managed to come back into contact with each other. Their lack of contact was painful, and Miles was the first to admit this in a five sided letter to her. Only half a page was about Ishval's progress. The rest was about him and her. Just them.

It only took him twelve months to finally find the courage to write about such. Olivier was in an even worse position as she never had the guts, but she needed to keep her place as commanding officer and stay that way. Nothing else.

Miles wasn't a mushy, romantic type. He was straight and to the point, admitting their sleeping together and argument was a mistake. All in all, Miles wished to make amends and she ordered him to return to Briggs whenever possible.

To her surprise, he was knocking on her office door after two days.

'You look well,' she said, nodding off his salute.

Miles smiled slightly. 'So do you, sir.'

Olivier stepped aside and he followed, closing the door behind him. Her office was how it usually was: organised, although he spotted several sharp weapons had been flung into the corner carelessly. She was either sharpening her blades, or practising and he had a hunch it was the former.

He felt at ease, which surprised him. Miles was expecting things to be awkward, but Olivier was mature enough to not mumble or fuss over such matters.

'Want a drink?' She asked.

'No, I'm okay.'

'So––' she vacated a seat opposite him, her expression hard to read. For once her bright, blue eyes failed to reveal anything she was feeling. Miles straightened his back, preparing for the worst. '––update me on Ishval.'

Was that it? 'Kanda is almost finished. A temple has been built, and already people are worshipping in there. The Ishvalans are capable of adding extra materials to the building, which reminds me: the military has been giving us lots of money to use on the restoration.'

Olivier nodded. 'Good.'

'Thank you, sir,' Miles said.

She rolled her eyes. 'It bugged me how the majority of us were sitting on our backsides. The military needed to do something. Fortunately Mustang was cooperative and Grumman was a little too keen to spend money. I'm glad it's been useful.'

'Absolutely,' Miles replied. 'So, has anything happened here whilst I've been absent?'

'Nothing exciting.' Her voice was blunt, like her gaze. Inside though she was shredding. Did this asshole have any idea... The amount of times she had considered making her way to Ishval again, to actually apologise when it was his fault! Her shoulders slumped. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anybody's.

Miles was about to speak again when she found her feet. There was a pause between them, and for a moment Olivier feared she would confess. Confess about what? That she loved him?

It was an effort to not cringe.

Olivier didn't love.

'I'm sure you need to rest.' The Major General walked over to her desk. 'However you're not here to idle. I need you returning to your duties again in a couple of hours.'

'Yes sir.' Miles swallowed. His heart fell to the floor when she didn't respond, implying he leave. 'I'll...' However he didn't finish. Miles didn't know what to say. He pulled open the door and left.

Olivier felt hollow. As if Miles had unlocked her, and removed anything inside which kept her stable and sane. It was damn infuriating. Sometimes she wished she could go up to him and kick him where the sun didn't shine –– hard.

Karma was a bitch.

Throughout the day she managed to approach him with duties and paperwork, and Miles dealt with each order without a fuss. She wished he would backfire, jab at her, or make some stupid remark in which she had a reasonable excuse to fire him. Really though, she didn't want Miles to get fired.

He didn't deserve the pleasure.

It was past midnight. How on earth he knew she was awake, Olivier would never know, but she answered the door either way. He looked exhausted. Miles had only been in Briggs for a day, and he was exhausted. This irritated her. She cocked an eyebrow his way.

'Can I help you, Major?'

'I'm returning to Ishval.' And with that, he swivelled on his heel and walked away.

It took a moment for Olivier to register what he said. She stared after him, before anger bubbled inside her. 'Excuse me! You're what?' She reached out and grabbed his arm. 'Just who do you think you are?'

'I'm tired, Olivier, that's what I am,' Miles replied, his tone softer. When he looked at her, she was aware it wasn't just work which was making him tired. He was tired of her. Of their messing around. Nothing made sense anymore. 'I'm going back to Ishval.'

She continued to cling onto him. I don't cling. At once Olivier jolted back, as if he had electrocuted her. 'You're not needed here anyway. Go!' Even to her, she sounded childish.

Miles said nothing. He miserably turned away, shoved his hands in his pockets and made for the exit. Olivier stood there, breathing heavily, glaring daggers into his back, hating his smart thinking, hating his confidence, hating him for making her love him.

And then suddenly: 'Wait!'

Olivier was naturally agile, but she hadn't moved so fast in her life. In a flash she grabbed hold of his collar and pulled him away from the door. Miles jumped in surprise, and she stole this advantage, barricading the exit completely. The Major heaved a sigh of relief.

'Sir, you scared me to death––'

'Don't go!' She blurted out. Olivier's heart raced. All sense of leadership she held had vanished in that instant. Now she was just a lonely girl asking a lonely boy to stay with her. Simple. Too simple.

Miles was silent for a moment, and she wished he would say something. Anything. Olivier was conscious of her cheeks burning in embarrassment but she refused to remove herself from the door.

'W–– Tell me why I shouldn't.'

She tried to think of justified and clever reasons, but all she could say was: 'Because I don't want you to go.'

And for some reason, this answer was perfect.

Miles sighed. Then a smile appeared.

'We should sleep. It's late.'

It didn't make sense why he didn't return to his own quarter. Why he didn't realise he was heading straight for Olivier's room, not his own. But in some ways, it did make sense. Walking away would be cowardice. Miles was anything but, and it felt natural to take her hand and guide her to her room.

They didn't kiss. Neither did they have sex. They didn't need to. They knew. Affection –– physical affection didn't matter in that moment. It was just them. Something they had wanted for so long. Now that it was happening they were both afraid. It was something they fantasised about. Not something they believed in.

Maybe she was tired. However Olivier hadn't slept so quickly. So well. Miles tucked her close to him, convincing her he wouldn't leave whilst his arms wrapped around her waist. They were locked together securely. Nothing could pry them apart, not anymore, not even themselves.

When she woke up she wished she would fall back to sleep again.

Miles' smell still lingered. She inhaled it deep into her lungs, before groaning, covering her face into the pillow. A horrible, nauseating feeling swirled inside her stomach and for a moment she feared she would be sick. Then it hit her.

This wasn't nausea.

It was shame.

Miles deserved better. And by the look of things, he knew that.

Olivier scrunched her eyes closed and clung onto the mattress. That damn bastard. He hadn't a clue! Or maybe he did. That was probably why he deserted her in the first place. She was such a fool. Falling for him, believing him.

She laughed, impressed how similar she could be to her youngest sibling.

Not like Katherine wasn't supporting them from the very beginning. Annoying little smart-assed minx.

Then, whilst Olivier was mentally throwing curses, she heard it. The door closing gently, almost silently.

Coffee.

The mattress sunk beside her. Olivier continued to have her face in the pillow, but her eyes were wide. She stopped breathing, listening, alert.

'... Did I wake you?'

The voice belonged to Miles'.

She remembered how to breathe.

Olivier managed to raise her head off the pillow and look at him. Several strands of hair hung over his forehead. It made her smile slightly. She only saw him like this after a hard day's work, or after other personal activities.

It was... kinda cute.

His shades were off. His skin looked rough and darker. Obviously his years in Ishval had brought along sandstorms and a hot sun. She noticed his cheeks were even a little red. Sunburn? An Ishvalan receiving sunburn?

Well. Nothing was impossible.

That much she knew already.

Yet in that moment, Miles had never looked so beautiful to her.

'Sir?'

'I'm fine,' Olivier said, voice still a little sharp, but not the usual commanding tone. There wasn't any need for that. 'Is that coffee?'

Miles turned to the tray. Two mugs were placed atop. 'Oh!' He said, as if the tray had magically appeared. 'Yes.' He took hold of a mug and passed it to her. 'You still like it with milk, right?'

Nodding, Olivier took it from him. Miles relaxed, grabbed his drink and nestled beside her, wrapping a free arm around her waist. She exhaled happily, finally content with them. This was real; this was flawless. This was right. It always had been.

They laid together in comfortable silence for a while. They heard some of the soldiers upstairs getting ready for work; for their duties and backbreaking paperwork.

'Thanks for the coffee.'

'That's all right. You looked like you needed some.'

'I was asleep.'

'... Exactly.'

Olivier shuffled closer to him, and didn't speak for the next ten minutes. Miles began to ramble on about something –– something unrelated, possibly Ishval, she wasn't sure. She was too focussed on something else.

'Josh?'

It was his name. But between them, it was much more.

'Yeah?'

'I love you.'

He didn't respond. Didn't move. Olivier wasn't even sure if he were breathing. She, herself, was frozen. She wanted to turn around and look at his face, to read an answer, a response, anything. So God help her –– so Mustang help her –– never in her life had Olivier been so open. It frightened her to the very core.

Miles' lips brushed against her ear, and she felt him smile. 'Olivier?'

Her heart was racing now. '... Yeah?'

'I love you,' he confirmed. Miles chuckled. It was a soothing noise. A happy sound. Relaxed. Content. 'I always have.'

A little, shy laugh came from her. 'Oh.'

This would cause problems for their positions, of course. She could already imagine Grumman going through a series of emotional stages for them both before finally deciding one of them retire.

Which, naturally, would be Miles.

And then there was Mustang. He would be cocky, and she gathered he would try and steal all the credit but once Olivier were to announce the reason behind Miles' retirement she sure hoped Mustang would be there to "catch" her fainting brother.

Fantastic.

End.

author's note: That's it! Thank you for reading this fiction, and I'm so happy I stuck to it. I hate myself when I stray away from a certain story. Fortunately I kept with this one.

Acknowledgments:

1) I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Hiromu Arakawa is the creator.
2) Thank you for your lovely support! I shall now offer cookies.
3) And my kittehs. Always.