In Which Riza Wears His Shirt

Riza yawned as she washed her hands, then her face, still warm from sleep. She could feel her legs with every step and every crouch. It had been too long since the last training exercise – she was not used to this kind of physical activity anymore. Not to mention that kind of activity.

Glancing out the window, the lack of blinds in the bathroom having made her squint unhappily upon stealing herself inside, she could see the sun peer through the clouds. Not yet seven, she estimated, but time hardly mattered at that moment. It was Sunday.

Giving a sigh, finding that she was still fairly sleepy, Riza only noticed after a moment not to have grabbed the towel to dry her hands. Blinking at the thin fabric, she found a shirt. A white button-down shirt. His white button-down shirt. The shirt that had started it all.

He had left it in the bathroom after his shower, and that had given Riza her quietus. He had intended it that way, of course – why else would he have emerged from the bathroom, towering with a halo of light behind him, casually leaning his arm against the doorframe, a pair of black tracksuit trousers loosely fitting over his hips while the towel around his neck had done nothing to cover his muscular torso.

Now Riza was not someone easily seduced, and she was not particularly weak to a strong male physique. She had scarcely been with anyone but him in her life, yet every time it had happened, there was nothing but him going through her mind.

Perhaps it had been that, she pondered. The way she had not been able to enjoy a second of the last stranger's ministrations must have brought her where she was now. A stupid decision, really. She acknowledged that it had been just that, and she would not have chosen it again if she had the choice now, but after that particularly testy fight with her Lieutenant Colonel, she had become unreasonable.

It was not as if exactly that fight had not brought her back, she realised. Argument or not, she could never stay away from him for too long (not least because work demanded so). He might not have noticed her struggle at all, she concluded, nearly cursing at the way he must have thought to have allured her with nothing but the sweetness of his words, the sexiness of his body and the bubbling feelings between them.

He would not be too wrong if it was the case, she knew.

Because he had been very sweet, and he was rather attractive, even without that year-old affection and her lingering frustration. Even the wisp of a kiss to her cheek coming from him was worth a thousand times more than an entire hour of sex with literally any other man.

Releasing the shirt, Riza found her hands dry when she finally reached for the towel. Lost in memories, she did not know how much time had passed. The colour of her face was evidence enough of her replaying their night together. Her fingers twitched, and she gave in. Picking up the shirt once more, she simply stared at it.

White, silky almost – perhaps as silky as he called her skin. A shiver ran down her spine at that thought. She could still feel the tips of his fingers travel down the length of her back, causing a new shudder of guilty excitement. Just as much as he loved to touch her, she loved his touch – not that she could ever tell him that.

Something resurfaced in the back of her mind without her consent just then: had Rebecca not mentioned once how wonderful it was to wear a man's shirt? The man's shirt, she would have said now, but Riza refused to call her superior that. They were not in that kind of a relationship, only he liked her and she liked him back. A lot. She tightened her lips in unadmitted defeat.

Riza remembered her friend to have made her remark months, if not years ago; maybe all the way back at the academy. Never had Riza acted on it. She wondered why she had not been triggered before – after all, it was not the first forbidden night they had spent this way.

No, it was certainly not the first.

While Riza was not one especially craving or needy, she did have an unfortunately big soft spot for that man snoring quietly next door. She recalled each and every time in detail, and she knew that once he managed to break down her rather thick walls of indifference, she was more than easy prey – easy to please with the only one she ever wanted right atop her.

Still, she was not someone to openly ponder, least of all speak about those things. She was glad to have him take the lead, too wrapped up in a mixture of pleasure and shame. What would her father think of her now? Or her mother?

Scarlet up until her ears from merely musing on the subject, Riza pressed the shirt to her face. Grasping too late what she was doing, she blushed even more. But his scent was surrounding her, and she could not help a deep inhale. It brought back Rebecca's comment…

Glancing up at herself in the mirror, Riza swallowed. She was more than glad that a turtleneck was her usual choice of clothing. With her eyes, then her finger, she trailed along the numerous marks down her neck and chest. They were warmer than the rest of her skin, if barely, and the one in the crook of her neck pulsed ever so slightly.

Noticing with shock how her body was reacting on her memories, she quickly raised up the shirt to her breasts. Another moment passed, then she carefully pushed her arms through the sleeves. Tucking the shoulders into place, she admired the way it loosely fit her, somewhat reminding of a tent. She had to confirm Rebecca's enthusiasm – it was thrilling.

The way his scent mingled faintly with the warmth of her body, the soft susurration of the fabric when she moved, the slipping of the buttons through their holes when she tried what it looked like with her ribs concealed. It was hard not to start any silly dream scenarios of her being bold and irresistible, so she left the upper buttons open to show off the tops of her breasts just so, allowing her navel to peek out as well.

Riza became so lost in her own world, she did not hear the creaking of the bed. Or the steps towards the bathroom. She nearly shrieked when he entered, wrapping her arms around herself with a soundless gasp. If her face had been red before, it was now an infrared heat lamp.

Roy's feet dragged as he shuffled over to the toilet. His eyes were closed, so it seemed, his arms and head hanging to an equally tired extent. He only noticed her when nearly running her over, stumbling back a little while her arms tightened.

"Oh," he croaked, "sorry," he was about to turn around but she was faster. No matter how spent, Riza was now wide awake. Muttering something similar as him on her way out, she hasted back into the bedroom. His bedroom. In his flat. Another twist in her stomach almost made her falter – what had she been thinking, coming here and letting the man she was least allowed of practically all men in the entire world seduce her into making love?

But his voice had been too smooth, and his touch too tender. Even now, she had only just managed to suppress the urge of rubbing those adorably crusted eyes of his; to leave her hands on his face, his chest, his arms, letting herself rest in his embrace.
Riza shook her head vehemently. She was getting off track again. Her hair was only just long enough to stay trapped within the collar of his shirt and she could already count the times she had slept with her superior officer as three times more than with anyone else. Yes, that was an easy calculation with the stranger from the past week having been the first and hopefully last one ever, yet three times was already three times too many.

Hurrying to find her underwear, Riza stepped into her knickers as if her life depended on it. Her heart was racing, making her short of breath for an instant. Forcing deep in- and exhales, she tried to calm herself. She had already survived an awkward morning-after breakfast once, she would live through another glance of his face before getting the hell out of this place.

Celebrating too soon, Riza heard the bathroom door open before she had the chance to track down her other clothes. He was always gentle, calm and patient in bed, but she still had to crawl on all fours until finding every item of her clothing. Every time. He did sleep rather wildly, and she was not sure whether to find his way of hogging her in his slumber endearing or concerning. Did he do that just with her or…?

Spinning around, Riza clasped her hands together right in front of the space she had previously left open so meaningfully. Embarrassed by herself, she all but stared at Roy. He was still tired, visibly so, rubbing one eye. The slim chance of him simply dropping back into bed remained, and she watched attentively, awaiting his reaction.

Always watching, always waiting. She was not one to take action, but oh, having him do so for her was too enthralling. Unlike the times before, the last night had been a battle with herself – she did return his actions to some extent; she would never be able to not kiss him back, and she did not want to. Only hours ago, however, the urge to answer his groans, reciprocate his grinding and pull that criminally handsome face down to meet her lips when she had not been able to keep from peeking at them now and again – it had almost been overwhelming.

Almost.

But Riza Hawkeye was the reasonable one of the two, and she feared what disaster would befall them if she acted on her feelings. Her heart skipped another beat on that note, but it was impossible at that point to deny the feelings she harboured for him.

Roy's gaze brought her back to the present. Not yet fully awake, he stared down at the shirt. His shirt. At her hands to be precise, and she wondered whether he was merely wondering why she was wearing it – perhaps even upset? – or whether he had seen her silly attempt at enticement before she had been able to cover her cleavage.

His eyes wandered, down to the tails of the shirt that covered her to her upper thigh. That's right, Riza remembered, he was a leg person. He had been rather enamoured with both her legs and chest the last night. And stomach. Back… everything, really – so she all but gulped, waiting. Always waiting.

"My shirt…" Roy muttered as if to himself. He must have realised minutes ago, even with eyes as sleep-veiled as his. Again, it was as reassuring as it was worrying how he was currently as much at a loss as she was. "Cute…" he breathed nearly inaudibly.

Riza's lips tightened, her hands following suit. She had not meant to look cute! That secret fantasy of hers had definitely attempted a more alluring approach, but… then there was only one thing that would entail. Her face flamed up anew, both her neck and ears tinged in pink. She had to leave; she had to be their anchor of reason.

She winced when he was suddenly right in front of her. His face was mere centimetres away from hers, overshadowing, enticing. When trying to take a step away, she found herself trapped within his arms, strong hands spreading fingers wide over the small of her back, as if trying to hold as much of her as possible. She could not swallow this time, not even her lungs giving any checkback signal. This was without a doubt the man she had hopelessly fallen for.

Everything tingled. Blood rushed as loudly in her ears as her heart drummed inside her ribcage when he drew her closer. If he kissed her now, she would be lost. He might have guessed, or he might have been oblivious, but when his lips so much as wisped over hers, she would be done for.

Surprised when said lips never arrived, Riza noticed only halfway through stumbling towards the bed how he was gently shoving her there. The being done for would count on bed as much as while standing, though she told herself she had more resolve to be reasonable now that it was morning, and she was not drunk on his presence anymore. She could stop anytime – and she could leave anytime she wanted, too.

Staggering slightly with her beginnings of resistance and the mattress in the back of her knees, Riza gasped soundlessly when his arms enclosed her once again. This time, they caught her, kept hold of her, then lowered her onto the bed. She squinted her eyes shut. Trying to collect herself for abandoning him proved more difficult than originally assumed. She was certain that her fall must have revealed both her knickers, as well as cleavage. And those thighs he was obsessed with.

Roy never ceased to amaze her, as she was not only taken aback, but utterly confused when he did not tower over her or straddle her hips. The mattress bounced them up and down for a moment when he flopped down beside her. Daring to steal a glance at his face, she found his eyes closed and his brow relaxed. The rustling of the sheets abated, and the room became still both in movement and in sound.

His arm never left her, embracing her fondly without compelling her into being pressed to him. For a moment, she felt the tiniest of stings of disappointment amidst the warmth of his gesture – why was he not squeezing her tight?

Ridding herself of the thought, Riza watched him again. That stupidly naïve, playful, lazy idealist. That clumsy boy who had entered her life one day, marched his way straight into her heart and never left it again. That kind, loving, spirited protector; that monster and saviour. Her demise and knight in shining armour.

It was hard not to frown fiercely with the tempest inside her head. Looking at him now, seeing that eased brow, those parted lips; hearing his rhythmical breathing that told her how he was on the verge of drifting off again… there were no words to describe how she felt about the present. About his present self. About hers.

He could have had anyone – he could still have anyone. Women were practically standing in line to get his attention or even a night out. All of them were pretty, charismatic and knew perfectly how to flirt or tease or giggle with just the right pitch to sound charming. More charming than her, and more pretty than her too, Riza thought to herself. It was odd, the fondness he held for her, and although she did not admit it to herself, she felt a dimly flickering gladness when pondering on it.

Staring on for a minute, then another, eyes gradually losing their focus, Riza's thoughts thinned. Her concerns blurred alongside them, and when she was almost certain he was asleep, she consciously decided against that voice of reason where it was yelling at her in the back of her mind. What had been her primary aim a few minutes ago was now the last thing she wanted.

Gaze never straying from his eyes, she scooted closer. A deep sigh rocked her chest once she arrived flush to him. His arms tightened in response, and when she glanced up, sleepy eyes twinkled down at her with an affection that made goosebumps rise all over her arms and legs. Yes, she loved him. And somehow, that little flicker in her heart told her that he loved her back just as much.