Forgotten

A/N: Day four of Royai Week 2016: Forgotten.

Ah, humorous fluff in this one. No angst. Well, not really. My head canon for this fic is that the events of the Promised Day make Roy ponder his feelings for Riza. His blindness initially prevents him from approaching her about changing their relationship. However, once he gets his sight back, he is determined to waste no more time despite the possible consequences of breaking the fraternization rules. Somehow, he talks her into not waiting until he's Fuhrer, and they become a very secret couple. So, if they are finally so happy together, why do they both look so miserable in that final "photo" in FMA:B? Yes. The mustache photo.

This has about 1000 words. The words belong to me, but not the characters nor the FMA universe. I am not worthy.

She was getting a headache just looking at it.

She should have nipped it in the bud, but she hadn't caught on. She called it The Stealth Mustache. It was just a few skimpy hairs at first. He didn't always shave every day, because he didn't need to. Sadly, it wasn't everyday that she got to be up close and personal with his (usually) enticing lips. They hadn't been intimate in four days due to separate assignments, and she hadn't turned the lights on when they entered her apartment. In the rush to get to her bed, they'd knocked into furniture. Hayate had already adjusted to the new situation, and his obstacle course training helped him barely avoid being tripped upon.

So, somehow, between dim light and haste, she hadn't seen it. Then they started kissing, and she felt it. If she hadn't been so hungry for him, she would have stepped back and checked it out, but... well, she was that starved for him. They'd fallen asleep soon afterwards, so when the dawn light seeped through her curtains, there it was. There that raggedy fringe thing was. They had to get ready for work, so she couldn't deal with it right then.

Later, she was finally alone with him in his inner office. At work, they were still Sir and Lieutenant. They behaved with propriety.

"You really should shave it off, Sir. It's not... flattering."

"I like it, Lieutenant. It makes me look distinguished. It gives me gravitas." He'd been told that he'd be promoted to Brigadier General with the next pay period. "New rank, new facial hair."

There was a logic to it, but when he mentioned this new rank, all she could think of was how rank the thing looked.

"It makes you look like you are going to tie Pauline to the railroad tracks or the belt at the saw mill," she asserted.

"It will fill out soon and look better. If I'm to be respected as a Brigadier General, I need to look older. The high ranking officers equate appearance with capability."

He wasn't wrong, but he was horrendously going about it the wrong way. Maybe she'd buy him a pair of fake eyeglasses.

"May I be dismissed, Sir?"

He looked hurt but nodded.

Every time (and everywhere) she broached the subject, the result was the same. He was adamant. She thought about withholding sex, but she nixed that option very quickly. Surely she could punish him without punishing herself. What fun was an illicit affair without hanky panky?

That night in bed, he stroked a long lock of her hair against his cheek. "I love your hair," he groaned. She leaned over, practically touching his ear with her lips. "I can't say the same about your hair," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed. "Love me, love my mustache."

She was out with Rebecca. Of course, she'd kept everything a secret from Becca, but Catalina had always suspected, maybe known, that Riza's devotion to Mustang was more than professional. When she wasn't trashing Mustang, she was trying to fix Riza up, frustrating them both. Catalina was a shopping maniac, and while Riza disliked shopping, she enjoyed walking around and listening to her friend's chatter.

Today, Becca was chattering about the thing. "It's awful!"

"He thinks that it looks distinguished."

"Have you said anything to him?"

"It's not my place."

They continued down the strip of stores when Riza stopped short. The sign said Walk-ins welcome! "Do we have time for this?"

"Are you sure that you want to? You may regret it."

"Not as much as... Um. It's time for a change." She sat in the chair and said, "Take it all off."

The next day was the official day of his promotion. They had spent another night apart, so he hadn't seen her new look until he walked into the office. His jaw dropped. When his mouth closed it was in a frown. "May I see you in my office, Hawkeye?"

"Yes, Sir!" She grabbed a notebook and followed him in, shutting the door, much to the disappointment of curious eyes and ears.

"What did you do, Riza?" he whined. "You know I love you hair. Why did you cut it?"

"You know I hate your mustache."

His voice got cold. "You're ruining my special day."

"Speaking of your 'special day,' we have to be on the Parade Grounds for the ceremony in 20 minutes. Don't you think that you should assemble your team and head over?"

"This isn't over, Hawkeye."

"Damn right, Sir!"

The ceremony was long and boring, because there were several promotions. Medals and stars were pinned. Photographs were taken. One of the photographs taken by Kain Fuery would (via Jean Havoc) find its way to a bulletin board in Resembool. That picture truly spoke a thousand words. The guys didn't know what the problem was between their superiors, but they knew to lay low. The looks on their superiors' faces threatened to let loose flames and bullets.

That night, they walked into her apartment without bumping into or tripping on anything. Hayate sensed the tension and curled in a corner, watching warily. The silence was deafening.

Finally Roy sighed. "I'll shave it when your hair has grown back to shoulder length."

"I'll get a hair cut every four weeks until you shave it."

"You drive a hard bargain, Riza."

"Believe me, Roy, if you shave it, everybody wins."

"Okay. I need a drink."

"Really, Roy. Don't you think you should wait until you've finished shaving?"

"You're right."

The drink was ready for him when he emerged from the bathroom. She smiled. "You look very nice."

"Nice enough for us to make up?"

"Let's go make up, now."

Afterwards, as they lay in each others' arms, he asked, "Is all forgiven?"

"Mmm, absolutely," she assured. But never forgotten, you idiot!

A/N: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Take care.