Where Neither Notices To Be Caught
"Urgh," Havoc groaned upon pushing the door open. A single room, of course. His shoulders sank and he almost forgot to move out of the way in his annoyance. "Why can't we ever book a room for, I don't know, each of us?" He threw the Colonel a look. The latter passed him, not without hiding a sigh of his own.
"I thought we'd already made the meaning of 'undercover' clear, Havoc,"
"And how unsuspicious is it for five people to share a single room?" He gave back, dropping his bag onto the couch before Breda could. He scowled in return.
"That's why we snuck in from the back," Mustang argued, receiving the key from his Lieutenant who was the only one known to the inn's receptionist to be staying overnight. She was still the most unfortunate, Havoc admitted to himself, seeing as she had to share with all of the men and would not even get a bed for her troubles. Not that he wouldn't have taken it in her stead would he be offered.
Breda had shoved off his comrade's bag and snuck his own onto the couch. The two started to growl threats at one another until the strict eyes of Hawkeye scolded them to stay quiet.
"Why don't I ever get a bed…" Fuery muttered, more to himself, though already setting up his temporary sleeping place on the floor.
"Don't be so selfish, Fuery," the Colonel shook his head as if disappointed. "The lady gets the bed, of course," he said to his men's surprise. Havoc raised a brow, rather unimpressed.
"Then why're you sitting on it?" He commented drily. Not that it lured out any shame, a smirk coming to stretch the Colonel's lips instead.
"I'm your commanding officer; it's only natural that I sleep on the bed," he lifted his chin slightly. Breda rolled his eyes, finally winning over Havoc who was too busy with bickering with his superior. Mustang's sly expression fell a little when Hawkeye had already set her things onto the ground, as if ignoring the entire conversation. Probably being rather successful in doing so.
"Hitting on your own staff, eh? Isn't that against the law, Colonel?" It was Havoc's turn to smirk, giving an amused huff when his superior stalked into the bathroom instead of answering.
"To be honest, I wouldn't mind sharing the double bed if only I'd get to sleep on it," Breda shrugged, while Fuery nodded in agreement.
"It's hardly queen-sized…" the youngest of them piped up with regret.
"Don't get your hopes up," Havoc said at the side glances the two men were eyeing the Lieutenant with, as if she could overwrite the offer to them like a vacation. "He hogs everything and anything in his sleep. Trust me, I've been there," he retold with a grimace, deliberately choosing the floor now to emphasise his point. The two blinked, quieting their protests.
They took turns in the bathroom, though they hardly changed, ready to move out in most of their uniform at all times. Boots and military jackets were lining up now, as well as a row of makeshift beds on the ground. Not more than two hours could have passed when Havoc awoke again, roused by a hand slapping his face.
Breda… he inwardly cursed at having chosen the spot in front of the couch, swatting the falling-off hand away to turn over, accidentally rolling too far, landing on something… soft. Sweat pooled at the back of his neck and he found his face to heat up profusely at the sudden fear clinging to his bones. That was Hawkeye's spot.
Anxiously peeling one eye open, he deflated with a sigh of relief. It was her pillow. Her empty pillow. He frowned. Just then, the hand from above came back, this time unmistakably prodding him on purpose. Quietly, he turned back, peering through the veil of darkness up at his friend who nodded his head over to the bed. The frown never leaving his face, Havoc propped himself up to see. His eyes nearly popped.
There she was. Curled up on her side, sleeping soundly all the while being hogged by the Colonel. How typical, Havoc thought, perfectly able to imagine the scene that must have gone down while they had dozed off, an order being spoken, having to be obeyed, whether she wanted to or not. Everyone on the team knew he had a thing for her – it was plain to see and evident in almost every of his actions and words about and towards her – but the fact that she now had to serve for his one-sided and absolutely forbidden purposes gave a slight lurching in the guts. He was reckless, yes, but not heartless. He should know better, Havoc thought, just when the Lieutenant stirred.
He held his breath alongside Breda, both staring into the half dark in anticipation. Giving the tiniest of hums in her fading sleep, Hawkeye shifted where she was being held around her stomach. It seemed to take her a moment to realise, but she could not have been dragged into bed without noticing, they knew. She was the lightest sleeper of them all.
She glanced over her shoulder to find the Colonel's head. There was a moment of hesitation before she finally decided to turn around, shuffling as little as possible as not to wake him. He did, anyway, his eyes not as small as hers with sleep, almost concerned from what could be detected through the dark.
With her arms still squished between them, she looked up at him. They shared a long gaze before she moved again, making both Havoc's and Breda's eyes shoot open when she closed her eyes, snuggling up to her commanding officer, nuzzling her face into his neck. The bulge that were her legs beneath the sheets scooted closer, one of them sneaking its way in between his. He bent his neck, softly pressing his lips to the crown of her head, then tightened his arms where they now rested on the small of her back. Her torso expanded in a sigh and they shared one deep in- and exhale, relaxing as they drifted off into slumber once more.
Havoc could not get a muscle of his body to react for another moment. He was not supposed to see this. But he was still alive. Neither had noticed. Breda nudged him noiselessly and both sank back onto their own pillows, sharing slightly dumbfounded, yet slyly grinning expressions.