Hello! Welcome to my Universe, I'm Nausika.

Hope you'll enjoy this little series; I would love to hear if you did and please don't be shy to let me know about any errors! Typos, grammar, spelling, questions, thoughts, ideas... just let me know. Happy reading!

Friday

Havoc held the car keys between his teeth as he gathered the stack of stapled reports from the passenger seat. At least he had been allowed to borrow a car from the military – he was sure he would have dropped half, lost a few and gotten all of them in a wrong order otherwise. But Hawkeye was the best when it came to evaluating reports, and they needed a good appraisal with the end of the month approaching.

How she had forgotten them was a mystery. Havoc assumed something personal to be occupying her rather than work suffocating her – the idea came as if by itself in the form of Master Sergeant Fuery walking down the pavement, Black Hayate on the leash. Why would he be walking him if she did not have something urgent to take care of?

Also, why was everyone off work earlier than Havoc today? Unfair.

Havoc closed the car's door with one foot, dropping the dangling keys onto the stack against his chest.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greeted with a grin. Looking up, clearly not having expected anyone, Fuery's eyes widened slightly upon recognising his colleague.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc," he returned with surprise.

"We're off duty, you can drop the formalities," Havoc threw him a smile, unable to lightly punch Fuery's arm with his hands full. Also fairly unable to open the door or even ring the bell of the block of flats, he realised.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just used to it," Fuery rubbed his neck sheepishly. "I call the Lieutenant 'Lieutenant', too," he gestured with the leash for emphasis.

"Is she not home?" Havoc's heart sank a little. It had taken him a good deal of research to find out where she lived to begin with – not because the address was a big secret to the team, but because he did not know her neighbourhood at all. He did not own a car after all – driving and being on the lookout was not the easiest of tasks for him. The dark had been an additional nuisance, though the lack of people on the streets due to the late hour had been a relief.

"She is," Fuery unlocked the door, "I offered to help after what had happened, and since my bus only-" he shook out his sleeve reveal his watch, stopping midsentence. "Oh, no, my bus!" Fuery gasped. "I'm going to miss it – here, can you take Hayate upstairs? He knows the way; he'll show you the door," he shoved the leash at Havoc, then reconsidered and hung it over the dog's back instead. "See ya," he petted Hayate's head, then hopped back down the few steps of the front door. "Sorry and thank you!" he called over his shoulder, hasting down the street where indeed a bus only just arrived.

Havoc stood there for another moment. Offered to help after what had happened? And what could happen to make one too busy to walk the dog – emotionally, being around the dog should have been a big plus; an irresistibly strong source of comfort. That, and as far as Havoc knew, Hawkeye did not have any family whatsoever – if it was not an emotional problem, then what was it?

On a different note, had Fuery not realised that Havoc had brought a car…?

Shrugging it off, though not without having to readjust his grip on the suddenly swaying reports, Havoc returned his attention to the opened door. Hayate was already inside, probably long gone. Against the chill of the night, the musty smelling entrance was inviting though, and Havoc could not help a sigh as he leaned his back to the door to close it behind him.

He did not want to add any more problems to whatever it was Hawkeye was struggling with, but that did not change the relief he felt upon knowing she would take care of the reports anyway. Whenever she took care of something, it worked out.

Now, where had that dog gone…?

Not finding an elevator, Havoc began climbing the flights of stairs. He had to leave the stairwell every storey since he had forgotten the number of her flat, spying out in the hopes of a wagging tail. Please let the dog wait and not scratch the door to be let in, he prayed, when finally catching sight of his target.

Hayate was sitting down the hall, expectantly watching a door to the left, occasionally whimpering, then listening intently. Havoc made his way across the creaking floorboards, catching up just in time when Hayate had scratched the door a second time, finally being heard.

"Oh," Hawkeye blinked in surprise when it was not just her dog and a much shorter Master Sergeant, but a tall Havoc and with a stack of documents awaiting her, "thank you," she said. Bending down, she ran a hand over her dog's ears. He rubbed against her legs before pushing past her to get in. A moment later, Havoc could hear the splashing of Hayate drinking, though he was not in sight. He missed out on Hawkeye's grimace where she recognised the paperwork she had forgotten. His eyes were busy travelling along the interior of her place – the emptying interior.

There were two doors to the right, both open. A table and two chairs were all that was left in the living room area. Apart from those and the sparce kitchen furniture, there was nothing but piles and piles of cardboard boxes.

"Woah, what's going on here?" Havoc asked, failing to greet first. "You're not moving away, are ya?" he stepped inside when a box threatened to fall over, both of their shoulders having reacted on reflex, pushing it back up onto the others in unison. She gave a sigh under her breath.

"No, worse," Hawkeye offered a half-hearted smile. Embarrassment was written across her features where she tried to shove a box or two aside to make room for him to enter properly. The entrance was by far the biggest mess, everything seemingly waiting to be taken out the door. It was rare for her to complain, yet her voice sounded tired as she received the reports from him. "My neighbour had a pipe burst and now the wall is all wet," she pointed at the second door.

There was rustling and rummaging, but since Hayate was nowhere to be seen, Havoc did not give it another thought.

"They're going to tear half of it down and rebuild it, so I can't exactly stay for a while," she explained. Crossing her arms, it looked almost as if she hugged herself. Havoc's brow creased sympathetically. Of course, one could have used the bathroom and maybe slept in the living room, but with workers traversing, bringing materials and drilling loudly at unholy hours, it was impossible to live comfortably with all the dust, noise, and invasion of personal space.

"If ya need any help, let me know," Havoc offered without having to think. Another box wobbled when he accidentally nudged the one below in his passing back to the entrance, so he took and replaced it on a rare free space on the ground.

"Thanks, but I think I'll manage," she gave him an honest smile. There was still that stressed-out frown on her forehead, and Havoc could not shake the feeling it was concerning his presence, rather than the overall dilemma.

"Do you know where you'll stay? A hotel's not exactly cheap for that long a time – is your neighbour going to compensate you for that?" he asked, making sure the pile next to the door was secure before crossing the threshold.

"I wish," Hawkeye rolled her eyes. Havoc opened his mouth for the subsequent question – he was rather sure she did not have any family in the area since he was under the impression that she had no family at all – when a voice came from the bedroom as if on cue.

"Hey, Lieutenant," the Colonel called, obviously oblivious to the guest, judging by the sing-song tone of his voice, "are you sure you want to keep this old frock here?" a stale, dowdy-looking grey dress appeared from the second door. His head poked out next, right where it would have had he worn the dress, a flirtatious grin on his face. "We could get you something new, if you know what I- oh," he caught sight of Havoc in the doorway.

"I see," a mischievous smirk spread across Havoc's lips. Blushing furiously, Hawkeye briskly turned away from him. She stalked over to her slightly perplexed superior.

"Yes, as it happens, I'd like to keep all of my things," she snapped. Snatching the dress from his hands, she then disappeared in the bedroom, undoubtedly to stuff it into one of the boxes. Havoc was still grinning, amusement sparking in her eyes when the Colonel winced as her voice reached them just as sharply. "Did you let Hayate have my socks?" she accused, hitting bull's eye as it seemed.

He opted to interpret it as a rhetorical question, rather occupying himself with getting more cardboard boxes from the living room towards the entrance.

"Only the ones that don't work with suspender belts…" he muttered to himself, a hint of mischief in his eyes.

"So," Havoc reminded of his witnessing the scene, "the Chief's stocked up on feminine company for the coming, what, days? Weeks?" his grin only broadened, brows wiggling suggestively.

"What are friends for?" the Colonel held up his palms as if helpless, though the inward smirk was easily guessed. "No, seriously," he stacked another alibi box, then leaned against the wall, "that man up there is a bastard; always wasting hot water, overheating the electricity and now this," he crossed his arms.

"You sound like it's not your first time here," Havoc noted, triumphantly biting his lip when the Colonel glanced aside. "I don't know why you're complaining so much if that idiot indirectly got you a pretty roommate," he winked. Oh, for the love of whatever god there might have been, why could those two not admit that they had something going on? At least confess their feelings – if not to each other then to the team; there were bets to be won.

"Oh, Havoc," the Colonel surprised with a composed, patronising tone, "poor, innocent, fortunate Havoc," he shook his head. "You've never lived with a woman before, have you? Because then you'd know the pain of having your every step under surveillance, and your every action questioned, having to justify yourself for everything and never postpone the cleaning of even a single crumb for longer than a second," he lamented himself, clicking his tongue.

"What was that, Colonel?" Hawkeye returned from the bedroom, a packed box in her arms. He broke a sweat, jaw tightening in mild panic.

"I…" he stuttered, "was just telling Havoc about dinner tonight; how I'll be making the pointed cabbage stew you proposed," he grinned with feigned chastity. She rose a single brow. Her eyes lingered on him for a moment longer.

"That's what I thought," she handed him the box, then stalked back into the bedroom. She must have known, the slyness in her voice saying it all. Havoc had to stifle his laughter, seeing as the Colonel somewhat deflated in relief over the box in his arms. He did not dare speak up until she was clearly not listening anymore, hearing her address Hayate.

"See?" Roy hissed.

Offering his assistance anyway, Havoc helped the Colonel carry boxes to his superior's car. Leaving the borrowed one behind, they drove several times to unload everything at Roy's place, covering most of it with a white cloth where it remained piled up against the walls of the tenuously furnished living room.

Whenever they returned to the Lieutenant's flat, they found her to have readied yet another carton. Havoc could not help but notice how perfect of a team the two were – just as much as they harmonised in the office, they complemented each other in private.

Not to mention the low-key flirts that were exchanged when feeling unwatched.

Still, she had become quieter, and Havoc suspected a looming berating to be the cause.

Riza looked up when Roy exhaled strongly to himself. He did not notice her fleeting glance, eyes trained on his book, so she did not push it. The last thing she wanted now was to annoy him.

Kneeling in front of the sofa of his living room, she felt a tightness in her chest. A tightness of discontentment with herself. Was she really such a pest to have around? Playing unaffected in front of Havoc was a given, a must actually, and she knew Roy had done the same to protect their secret affection. Nonetheless, she could not shake the feeling that his words of displeasure had rung with truth, and that she was making him feel pressured and tense in his own home.

The abundance of cardboard boxes right behind him was not helping her bad conscience in the slightest.

He had argued against her offer, told her it was not important and that the lowest of his buttons – the string having loosened, letting the small button dangle – was never visible anyway. That she should not worry about it and relax; do what she liked to. But Riza was feeling meek, so she had gotten on her knees and quietly started to sew.

Roy had frowned, yet let her be, his book lifted higher in front of his face with her elbows propped up on his thighs. The only thing she was able to see was his chin, and occasionally, when he turned a page, the corners of his mouth.

It did not take her long to finish, no matter how much perfectionism she poured into the task. She did not allow herself to read into his mood, rather attributing the long silence that stretched as leftover irritation. He had not noticed how her insides had churned during dinner, nor how her mind was buzzing until now. Everywhere she looked, she felt like a burden.

Submissively, Riza let her head sink onto his lap. Arms crossed, she hid her face in them, closing her eyes. It reminded her of Hayate when he had chewed on something he was not supposed to.

There were still the reports she could check to return into his favour. She could overtake his housework, get up early to spare him the effort of crawling out of bed to make breakfast. She had been keen on watching over his sparse diet, knowing he ate too little and too seldom, but where there had been determination, there now was a queasy coiling of her stomach. Cooking, yes, but chiding about his eating habits…

It was not so much the fact that she owed him for taking her in, it was because she could not under any circumstances be a disappointment to him. He might have needed his adjutant, even outside of work, but for her, the very meaning of her life depended on this man.

Riza nearly winced when a hand landed on her head. Peeking over the rim of her arms, she met a warmly beaming smile.

"That can't be too comfortable," Roy said where she would have expected a reprimand of weighing down on him. Perhaps some lewd comment, but her mind interpreted in different, pessimistic ways with her negative thoughts clouding reason. She scolded herself for going as far as reading into the lack of a suggestive remark as anger – that he was too bothered with her presence to tease.

His expression let none of that on, confusing her.

Roy's smile remained gentle, his actions even more so as he stroked over her head, enjoying the way his fingers ran through her hair. She was reminded more and more of her dog, but even that awareness did not get her to stop feeling small.

"It's late anyway," he yawned, covering his gaping mouth with his book. Putting it down, he kept on smiling down at her. "How about we call it a day?" he placed his hands on her shoulders, and she obediently took the signal, sitting up.

She waited to stand until he had, something he frowned at. He in turn waited for her to walk by his side instead of behind him – something they called normal behind closed doors – further jarring with her image of herself at that moment.

Them being at cross purposes for some reason did not slip Roy's attention. He watched her through the mirror while they brushed their teeth. The distance she was creating worried him. Being who they were – at least with one another – they naturally assumed to be the problem themselves.

Once in bed, Riza felt her heart beat insecurely. Despite her concern, it did not take a second too long after he had turned off the light for him to arrive behind her. With one of those deep hums that – sure enough even now – made goosebumps rise all over her arms and legs, Roy kissed her nape. Next came his arm, winding around her. Using it to pull her into the curve of his body, he nestled up against her, letting out a long sigh.

"You okay?" he checked with a hint of uncertainty. Nodding, Riza suppressed a shiver when he placed another kiss to her shoulder. First, she was being a burden, and now she had made him feel guilty about her own lingering trepidation. How was she supposed to last more than a day without him wishing to kick her out?

When Roy awoke the next morning, he felt something move. He had to smile – something moving under his arm could only mean he was with Riza. As opposed to just about any other morning, he promptly opened his eyes. She was a sight to behold.

On her front, already seeming too awake for whatever unholily early hour it had to be, she had propped herself up on her lower arms. Her current point of interest: a dried-out droplet of paint that had once dripped onto the headboard of the bed. His current point of interest: her.

Golden shimmering tresses descended down her back, sticking out here and there in a lovely mess he was proud to be granted to see. There was the lightest of blushes on her cheeks – sleep warmth; doubled with the two of them sharing the blanket. Her eyes were awake, seemingly veiled with the inner trouble the frown of her brows reflected. With the nail of her index finger, she was scratching at the paint – already on a mission; already working.

Even though he could have watched her endlessly – something she complained about constantly when it happened during work – Roy let her know to be awake. The fact that she had not noticed only fuelled his suspicion of something bothering her.

Tightening his arm where it had sunk onto her lower back, he alerted her.

"Good morning," Riza blinked at him with surprise. Her blush darkened by a shade. It instantly broadened his smile – that cute side of her had always had a special place in his heart.

"Morning," he grumbled in a hoarse voice. Not that he could help it, but he knew she found it attractive. The knowledge made him as excited as a six-year-old on his birthday. And as a twenty-year-old before… something else.

Coiling his slackened arm further around her, pulling her back down, he effectively hindered her from loading any more work onto herself than necessary. It was Saturday – that woman needed her rest. If Black Hayate had not yet whined to be walked, there was no rush whatsoever.

She gave in much more easily that he would have thought. Too sleepy to remember that her strange behaviour must have been the reason, Roy snuggled into her. Wrapping both arms and one leg around her, he felt a warm gladness spread through his entire body. Being able to hold her. Inhaling her scent. Burying his nose in her hair. Feeling her breath against his neck and her skin beneath his fingers where her shirt had ridden up. He was in heaven.

If only this would be a normal given, he pondered. At least a weekend thing, yet they were smart enough not to meet up as frequently. It made the moment all the more special, and more valuable than waking up with a million Cens on his bank account overnight. No, nothing could top holding her close, so it did not take Roy long to drift back off into a dreamful slumber.

When he awoke the next time, there was no one in bed with him. He frowned, not least due to the light starting to flood the room. For how long had he slept? And where was his lovely roommate as Havoc had called her?

It could not have been a dream – he could still smell the sweetness of her on his sheets. The noise from the hall told him a good deal about where she was.

Against his usual conduct, Roy heaved himself out of bed. Sure enough, he found her in the kitchen. Making breakfast. As if his day could get any better. No work, Riza, and Riza making breakfast. If he would ever be given the chance to choose a different life – one without the military and his stupidly dangerous ambitions – it would be her. Anything that involved her. Heck, he'd even become a dustman or armpit sniffer for testing deodorants if only it would mean he could stay by her side.

Currently, his ambition was not the only hazardous thing – having her stay and for this long… it was a risk to expose himself to this much goodness. It weakened his will to achieve anything but preserve their living together. Why could they not just get married? At least move in together permanently.

Returning to the present – wondering how the Hawk's Eye had not yet noticed him in the doorframe – Roy crossed over to where she was busy at the stove. He turned it off.

"Wha-" she took an inhale to question his actions, cut off by her own gasp. Having slung an arm around her midriff, Roy flung her over his shoulder. "Colonel?" Riza protested. She did not fight him however, seeing as he had been prudent enough not to let the house burn down.

Once arriving in the bedroom, Roy dumped his Lieutenant on the bed. She bounced on the mattress, not yet having had the time to turn to him when he flopped down beside her.

"Colonel," she tried again, but he only responded by holding her captive again. How he loved holding her tight. She might have been stiff with puzzlement, but still, there was no wiggling to get out, no squirming or growling for him to let go. She endured, and he found he would have much more enjoyed their more or less voluntary sleep-in had she reciprocated his gesture.

He undoubtedly savoured a good breakfast that did not require him to lift a finger, but she was not there to work. She was his guest, even though the status family appealed to him more. Or wife (the idea was not leaving him).

Someday, he told himself. Someday he would ask her, whether or not they could actually get married.

"Colonel…?" Riza asked faintly. There it was again – the humility.

"Hm?" he hummed against her chest, savouring the suppleness of her cleavage. He wanted to kiss and appreciate every centimetre of her body. But he waited, knowing his actions spoke enough for themselves to lure her out of her shell.

Still, she hesitated. Not having any eyes on her seemed to help though, the swallowing he felt against his forehead announcing her question.

"Am I… a pest when staying here?" she quietly dared. What a silly question, really, he thought to himself. failing to decipher the lingering guilt.

"You're never a pest," Roy mumbled into her. Kissing the very top of her sternum, just below the hollow of her neck, he fulfilled his increasing desire to adore her with more than just his eyes. Sneaking a hand under her shirt, he drew soothing patterns into the small of her back.

"But I pester you, don't I?" she insisted. There was a pause. A pause during which she became even more agitated than during the previous evening. A fierce frown creased his forehead. It dawned on him that she was being serious. She was honestly of the opinion that he was not absolutely over the moon about having her temporarily move in.

Havoc, it hit him. That defensive nag he had tried to overplay his obvious delight with – she must have heard. But why in the world would she believe it?

Riza released a long breath. Her shoulders sank sadly, her regret of having asked him plain to see. She had not wanted to put him on the spot, but she was plagued by the thought of disgruntling her host. She hardly ever caused him distress, rather solved his problems, so her unease was logical – just not reasonable.

Deciding to show her just that, Roy nipped her growing anxiety in the bud. Taking her arm, he pushed it down to force her onto her back. Her eyes went wide when he suddenly loomed above her, caging her in with an arm on either side of her. His eyes were stern, piercing hers with a strict gentleness.

"Do you truly believe that any amount of nagging from any living creature would ever get me to stay away from you?" he lowered his head. She turned hers away slightly, embarrassment rising to her cheeks in the form of a glowing scarlet blush. Making him feel as if he had to justify himself was clearly not her intention, and he could read the inward curses at herself off her forehead.

He took her chin between two fingers, willing her gaze to hold his. She hesitated.

"…no," she finally said. Quietly, but at least honestly. He returned a mellowing smile.

"Then you should know my answer," he bent down further. Their breaths collided, hers hitching when his upper lip brushed hers. Her heart was fluttering, leaping inside her chest, eyes wide. When they flashed to his lips for the split of a second, Roy took it as permission.

He felt her lashes tickle his cheekbones as they fell shut. Softly, sweetly, he kissed her. And again. Opening his own, he claimed her lips whole, moving in tandem with the shyness of her own. It had been a while since they had kissed.

Regardless, Roy quickly became more avid. Demanding more, faster, he pushed against her lips nearly ferociously, leaving her stomach twisting and turning in dizzying loops. It had been too long; so long, it almost hurt him physically how much of an effect she had on him in return. The ache rushed over him like a tidal wave, a momentarily painful mixture of pleasure and pain icily gripping his heart. He had no time to identify it as his lungs screaming for oxygen.

Roy nearly lost his balance when she responded. With a to her embarrassing hunger, Riza moaned as she slid her lips against his. The hair in the back of his neck stood on end, his entire body as if electrified when her fingers furled around his shirt. Heat started to bubble up in his chest, his belly, his groin, all the while his brain buzzed with pure, impregnable rapture.

He slowed his ministrations when her next moan came more as a whimper. With exceeding tenderness, his hand long having cupped her cheek, Roy kissed her one final time. A light, satisfying smack sounded where they peeled away. When he opened his eyes, he found hers shining back at him. Dazzled. Enchanted.

Enchanting in turn.

Gazing back deeply, Roy returned her lack of hesitation with great affection.
"Unless you need any more proof, that is," he trailed, smiling lovingly, a hint of playfulness dancing on his tongue. To his initial disappointment, Riza caught herself, averting her gaze once more. She did not refuse his hand on her cheek however, rather leaning into it.

"Maybe…" she breathed, biting her lip, "that… again…" she muttered. Roy felt as if struck right into the heart. Damn, she was the cutest thing. The beginnings of a pout on those alluring lips, cheeks puffing when his smile grew exponentially.

Drunken with love, he gladly kissed her again. Then again, repeatedly, the next kiss sucking on her lips before the last had ended and longer than before, leaving her panting. This time, a full-fledged moan escaped her. It cost him his precious spot, arms shaking with the delightful shudder down his back.

He collapsed onto his side to spare her his weight. Not letting go, his hand travelled to her arm, trailing down to gently tug on her waist. Effortlessly, he collected her closely against him again, faces remaining close, practically inhaling the other. His smile never leaving, Roy docked his forehead to hers.

"You make me so happy," he whispered. A smile of her own mirrored his, and even after everything – after all the years and not to mention their kissing just a moment ago – his heart skipped a beat when she pecked his lips.

She could not have planned for that to escalate things, but somehow, Roy got the feeling she did not mind in the slightest. Her breathy moans told him. The curling of her toes, the arching of her back, the wheezing of his rank, and the clawing of her nails in his back drove him crazy. Perhaps there was one thing better than Riza making breakfast on a Saturday morning…

Though he could have done without the overprotective dog.