Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu
Notes: Yargh, another OOC one. Also, my longest so far. But even if it is out of character, it has Hughes, and that makes it okay. Please? :3
Forty-seven: In The Dead Of The Night
Summer in the city was a hot, sweaty time. Day or night (although, admittedly more so at day), the ideal temperature would always be "just a bit cooler". Riza Hawkeye wasn't one to complain about many things, and although the heat of summer was one of those many things she wouldn't complain about, it still had a distinct effect on her. For example, when the heat was making it hard for her to get to sleep, instead of sitting up and folding her bed covers down as she might do if a little too warm, she kicked it off violently, pointedly ignoring the messy ball it fell into at the foot of her bed.
It was one of these sweltering nights when she couldn't get to sleep that several someones with familiar voices hadn't been able to get to sleep either.
"Look," one of the voices said, wafting through her window – the tone he used illustrated that the heat irritated him, as well – "it's the middle of the night and you've dragged yourself down here in your pyjamas, not to mention you've dragged me here, too. Just tell her and get it-"
"Shh!"
"Oh, come on."
"Maes, she'll hear you!"
"Then just get it over with."
Riza's jaw clenched and she scrunched her eyes up harder, trying desperately to drift off. She wasn't going to pay attention to those two if they were stupid enough to walk around in the middle of the night. If it wasn't for the pyjama comment, she'd think they had been out drinking. Perhaps they had been at Roy's home, drinking. In their pyjamas.
"I can't! Let's go!"
There was a pause and a slight "urk!" from that voice, as though he had been stopped unexpectedly, and Riza entertained thoughts of Hughes grabbing him about the neck, although that was most likely far from what had happened.
"Stop fretting. Just tell her, and then we can go."
"No, there's no point. It probably isn't a good time . . ."
"A good time? You've got to be kidding!" Maes laughed. "It's the middle of the night – what did you expect, coming here?"
A sniff. "I don't know. Maybe that she'd still have lights on and we could go in and take our time about it." If her eyes were open she would have rolled them.
"In your pyjamas?"
"It was on the spur of the moment!"
"Just-"
"Shut up and go home," she growled, stopping both voices all of a sudden. "If I don't get any sleep tonight, you won't in the least enjoy work tomorrow."
A silence fell, leaving the air ringing with expectation after her voice. There was a self-conscious cough, and a quivering, "G'night, Hawkeye," before footsteps allowed her to feel comfortable. She rolled over to a cool patch of mattress, and tried to sleep. If she woke up in the morning feeling refreshed and not out of sorts, she could convince herself it was all a dream.