Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.

Theme: 052. Hair Clip

Dedication: Kisanath, thank you!

Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, Havoc would still have the use of his legs. Injustice to the sexy is wrong. Very wrong.

Angles

052. Hair Clip

"Really, Riza, it is just a hair clip."

Her face remained joyful as she looked at the gift that was on the desk in front of her. Although he had wanted the gift to please her, he had not imagined that she would be that happy with such a simple item. Perhaps he should have known better. Riza was not one to build her love based on moonlight strolls and expensive gifts. Her affection (rarely displayed as it was) could only be gained from the simplest things, such as a few caring words or a knowing smile. Yet even so, a hair clip was such a insignificant item and he could not understand in the slightest why she was so ecstatic about it.

"It is special, because it is from you." She replied, a little grin lighting up her face. He supposed that was it. He never really gave her many gifts, through lack of organisation. His memory was not really made for remembering numbers and figures, either. He often forgot birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, the more significant things. But he had thought a little gift would be nice, even without any reason to give it. A spontaneous act of kindness, or something to that effect. He grinned wickedly in return, getting a sudden idea which he was not sure she would appreciate as much as the present he had given her.

"Riza, do you want another gift?" He asked slyly, a twinkle lighting up his dark eyes. She looked up at him where he stood, clearly studying the situation with great scrutiny. He might have given her something she loved with a childlike wonder, but she was rarely fooled and after years of knowing him she could easily tell when he was up to something she would probably not agree with. She grabbed the hair clip quickly, playing with it before she answered.

"No." She deadpanned, her flat reply making him feign horror. Too bad, she was going to get it anyway. He leaned forward on the desk, supporting himself with his elbows and looking straight at her before closing his eyes and pressing his lips gently against hers for barely a few seconds.

"Sorry, I wanted to give you it too much." He flashed her a cheeky grin before racing out of the room, leaving her stunned and staring at his blue covered back before the wooden door slammed shut loudly. Her momentary shock soon washed over. Drawing her guns, she thundered towards the door and screeched, hoping wherever he was he was hiding well because if she caught him she would skin him alive. Her boot crashed into the door, knocking it open roughly.

"I hate your gifts!"

Fluffy piece of junk, because I write too much angst and it is needed in this collection.

Preview: "Romance is dead."