Brigadier General Roy Mustang [Flame Alchemist] (herofishval) wrote in knowhereic, @ 2017-09-03 13:42:00 |
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It was lunch time and though York often brought lunch for the Colonel on Saturdays (it was like the two had a schedule worked out or something), today the knock on Roy’s apartment door was decidedly lighter than the heavy hand of the Spartan. It sounded, in fact, like Hawkeye’s knock. When the door opened and the culprit was revealed, it would indeed be the blonde woman instead of the blonde man (Mustang and his merry band of blondes, what was with that?) standing there holding a tray with lunch on it. York always brought bags of take-out, Riza always brought something she made in the community kitchen in the barracks, because she wasn’t sure that she trusted the food they could get from the places around here. “Sir.” She greeted simply. “Your lunch.” York had let her know he wouldn’t be able to make it today, he hadn’t explained why.. It made her suspicious, but she had Mustang to deal with, first. Really, she had Mustang to deal with every day. And she was doing her very best not to think about that kiss he’d given her, or the way she’d returned it.. Or the night she’d.. Ahem. Well. Best not think about that night at all, because it hadn’t happened. It couldn’t happen. He was her superior officer and even if they were in another world, they’d have to go home some day, right? Then what would they do? Could they both really put the brakes on and pretend like nothing had happened? Well, Riza could, as she so artfully demonstrated with their lack of communication over the night they’d shared together. *** “What, do you two schedule these meals?” Roy asked, not for the first time, when Hawkeye entered his little apartment carrying a tray of home cooked food. ‘Home cooked.’ It was nothing like home, but Roy was used to Hawkeye prepping food for him herself, given he’d lived with her for a good portion of his young life, and she was well aware that even in adulthood he didn’t feed himself if she wasn’t putting something in front of him to eat. He wandered away from the door once she was through it, his dark eyes tracking Hawkeye with guarded suspicion. They’d been decidedly formal since.. Well, they were always formal until Roy pushed the issue and draped himself across her for whatever reason. Hawkeye was a stickler for the rules while Roy, in contrast, liked to bend them for his own gains. To say their relationship was contentious was somewhat of an understatement. Frustration was a daily factor in their lives as they tried to work around each other’s habits. But work wasn’t on the Colonel’s mind. He flopped gracelessly back onto his couch--the same one he and Hawkeye had shared their first night together on--and picked up the book he’d been reading. He wasn’t hungry, the book had been more interesting; evidently it was something that inspired him toward a particular thought, as evidenced by a spread of papers gathered around the alchemist with various notes, scribbles, and half finished drafts of things. Sure, a lot of it was a nonsensical mess of doodles and things that made no sense to the outside eye, but the codes of alchemists were theirs alone. It all made sense to Roy, and that was what mattered. Hawkeye knew his code, for the most part, it had been just one of many of his demands that she learn it. Her being able to read it didn’t mean she’d know what he was working on though. “Is the world falling apart outside?” he asked. In translation: Was there anything he had to pay attention to? *** Brown eyes swept down over his notes and his drawings, careful not to step on anything. She moved some of them off of the coffee table and set the tray of food down there. “No, sir. Though I’m certain something is going on with the Elrics and York. I’m looking into it.” Neatly stacking those papers, she set them aside then let her eyes slide back to the Colonel. It was the weekend, Hawkeye was in casual clothes (though she wore her uniform every other day, out of habit) and so her comfortable ‘at-ease’ military stance looked a little out of place as she fell into it near the food. He didn’t look interested. “I made lunch for you, Colonel.” With her own two hands. It wasn’t take-out. Maybe that would entice him to at least take a glance at what she’d prepared for him. There was meat (she didn’t dare ask what kind, but she’d tried some herself before making any for Roy), some vegetables that she had recognized, and a small bowl of soup. She’d done the best with what she had available. “You should eat.” She would stand there and watch him until he did. York did the same thing, but he chatted while he waited. Riza just stared, her silence overwhelming. *** Roy made a noise of acknowledgement at Hawkeye’s concern for the Elrics. He didn’t raise his eyes from the book, but it did occur to him in that moment that he could just ask Alphonse what was going on and the boy would, in fact, tell him. How did Roy know? Because Alphonse, for whatever reason his home world had decided, trusted Mustang more than Edward did. Roy paused and put the book down in his lap, blinking. Huh. Alphonse, the key to Ed’s wellbeing, wanted to be Roy’s … friend. A new set of eyes where York couldn’t be. Or Hawkeye. The Colonel looked at his Lieutenant finally, noting her casual dress for the first time since she walked in. What had she said? Oh, right. Food, she’d brought him lunch. He sat forward, pushing a hand through his mess of dark hair, then reached for his meal. Sometimes he ate mechanically and without noticing what he was consuming, usually when he was preoccupied with thoughts. “Sit down, Hawkeye, you know it bothers me when you stand there and stare.” He cracked a small smile. “What’s going on with the triplets?” Ed, Al, and York. “And does it have anything to do with this ‘Sirius’ kid?” *** Sit. Right. Coming around the other side of the coffee table, she bent to neatly stack those papers, too, but held them in her hands as she sat down on the hardwood, near his tray of food instead of beside him on the couch. This way she could look across at him instead of having to crane her neck to look at the man beside her. The papers were settled in her lap and she briefly looked over them. He’d obviously had some sort of breakthrough on what she assumed was Alchemy. She could read his code, but there was no way to actually understand what he was babbling on about in those notes. Dark eyes rose when he asked about the trio. Triplets. The nickname caused a bare smile. It was gone as soon as she spoke. “The three of them are being very quiet, the last two and a half days I’ve only heard from York and he’s seemed tense. I spoke with him just an hour ago and he seems to be more relaxed now, but I haven’t been able to speak with Edward. Alphonse seems to be in high spirits, however. And I haven’t seen anymore interaction between he and Sirius Black, nor have I seen them meet physically.” She’d been keeping a close eye. Eyes which dropped back to the papers again. “May I ask what you’re working on, sir? And if there’s anything I can do to help?” He was working. Without her standing over him with a gun. She wanted to encourage it. Whatever she could do, she was offering herself up. Did he need an assistant to help with the research? She wasn’t an alchemist, but she was great with research and reports, and recording information and-- well. Being an assistant. *** “Mm,” He said around a spoonful of soup. If none of the three were dead or in danger of dying there was nothing to worry about. Roy liked to think York had a calming effect on Edward, that he could keep the boy from doing anything stupid outright, but really… Was that ever truly the case? His cards were settled squarely on Alphonse before. Except now the worry was keeping Alphonse on a straight path as well, given his brief conversation with Sirius Black. When had the boys switched roles? Had they even? When did they both become reckless? Roy shook his head to himself and decided he’d let Hawkeye keep watch a while longer before he bothered intervening. He suspected he could get Al to behave if he asked him to. Or told him to. Edward was a different matter. Hawkeye was speaking again. Roy glanced at her then at the stack of papers she’d neatly compiled which he would inevitably scatter around again so they’d be in the order he had them first (for a reason, Hawkeye!), and shrugged. “It’s not going to work,” he said though he didn’t sound troubled by it. In fact, if anything, it seemed to excite him. Whatever he was working on, he seemed interested in actually… making work. Weird, huh? He leaned forward and snatched one of the papers out of her hands, glancing at it briefly to make sure it had nothing important, then scribbled down a list of items. “I need these to actually work this damned thing out. The last four are books I’ve only heard about, I don’t know if they exist, so don’t waste too much time finding something that could just be a myth.” He pushed the paper back toward her. A list of ingredients. Camphor oil, four pearls, alder bark, nightshade, among other things. Useless, a random smattering of things that would make no sense if taken out of context. Or give anyone who was watching pause, something to ponder over. All of his requests were always that confusing and random, because he never needed all of the items therein. Just some of them. But it would trouble anyone who was watching about what he was doing. What would he need a boar’s tooth for? What indeed. *** Hawkeye regretted asking at all. A boar’s tooth? “No baby ducks this time, sir?” She asked, a bit of a tease-- a smile definitely in her voice even if the one on her face was only very slight. “I’ll do my best.” Neatly folding the list, she tucked it away and then pushed to stand, turning and setting the papers neatly onto the coffee table where she’d just been sitting. She had her list. The objects on it were marching orders as far as she was concerned. “Please eat the entire meal, sir.” Since she wouldn’t be here to watch him. “And I’m glad to see you working on something with such excitement.” It had been a while since she’d seen it, it was usually begrudging, knowing he was working on something so destructive as Flame Alchemy.. But now? Well. He looked pleased. Proud, even. And in turn, Hawkeye looked pleased. Glad that he was happy. *** He chuckled at the memories of the first weeks she’d signed on as his assistant. Those had been the most trying times of her position, if Roy had any say in the matter, because back then she hadn’t understood how he operated, why he was issuing the orders he’d been giving out, or trusted in her abilities to tell him to stop wasting everyone’s time. He’d sat back and laughed his ass off that day while he watched her and the others run around trying to catch a duckling with its mother in hot pursuit and agitated defense of its baby. Neither Hawkeye nor Jean liked that assignment. It still amused Roy to this day. Especially because he’d inevitably pet the duckling for three seconds before letting it go again. That had been a valuable lesson in following orders that didn’t make sense. In the present though, Roy quirked a brow and watched Hawkeye get up. “I haven’t dismissed you yet, Lieutenant,” he said pleasantly. Where did she think she was going? And indeed, it was a change in him, come over him by the simple fact whatever he was doing now was because he was curious and interested. Something of his own design, rather than something he’d been forced into pursuing. Oh, the things Roy Mustang could have been or accomplished if he hadn’t joined the military and been made to do things he didn’t want to. The result was the man sitting in front of the woman now, a spoon halfway to his mouth, his eyes burning with that decidedly mischievous look that only came when he was up to something terrible and feeling particularly manic about it. “Sit down, Hawkeye, there’s an elephant in the room..” *** I haven’t dismissed you yet, Lieutenant. Brown eyes set back to her Colonel.. And then with his next order, she slowly took a seat beside him on the couch. The elephant in the room? Lord, she hoped that didn’t mean that he wanted her to go get him an elephant. Or that he wanted to talk about what happened between them. On this couch. “What are you working on, sir?” She’d asked before, but only once or twice. He never told her. Not really. It was always vague and off-handed when he gave her an answer. Nothing ever serious, or honest. She didn’t expect that type of answer today, either. She expected he would want to talk about his future pet elephant. Why did she love this man again? *** She sat down, Roy looked at her, then he pushed aside food and papers, taking the pencil again to sketch out an array on the coffee table in front of him. Alchemists sure had no respect for surfaces; if it was decent enough to mark up, they definitely did. But, a minute later, the array was drawn to appropriate standards for this transmutation, then the Colonel dropped one of the throw pillows into the middle of it… before he lifted it again, smudged one of the symbols, altered it slightly to compensate for something that just occurred to him, then dropped the pillow back down and set both hands to the edge of the array. Applying his focus of energy, a brilliant light gleamed to life and the alchemist transmuted that stupid throw pillow into an equally stupid stuffed elephant. The light faded when Roy pulled his hands away from the array. He smiled faintly, reached out, and then handed her the elephant. If she wanted to look worried about something, now she didn’t need to. Silent as the grave, Roy looked at Hawkeye again, lifting a hand to touch her blonde hair as he always did. “Are we going to keep pretending nothing changed?” he asked. Yeah, he wanted to talk about what happened on this couch. *** Those dark eyes lit up when he turned the pillow from just a boring couch pillow into an elephant. The smile that appeared on Riza’s face wasn’t wide, or all encompassing. She didn’t smile the way Roy did, or even Ed or All, definitely not York. Hawkeye’s smiles were always subtle, small, no hint of straight, white teeth. It was only ever upturned lips. Today was no different. The elephant accepted, the young woman held it close to her chest, fingers sliding over the softer, gray material it was now made out of. Then her attention turned up as Mustang spoke again. As his fingers touched her hair. Her arms tightened some around the elephant. “What happened was inappropriate for a man in your position, sir.” It was inappropriate. She was your subordinate. You couldn’t just.. Just.. Hawkeye let out a soft breath. They couldn’t do this. “I realize the fault was mine entirely and I’m willing to take the blame for it, but that doesn’t change the fact that it won’t ever happen again.” That was a lot of words for the Lieutenant, who did most of her talking through glares and blank looks. But she had wanted to ensure the words couldn’t be misunderstood. Nor misinterpreted. They couldn’t do it again. He was her Colonel, she his Lieutenant. They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t maintain a relationship once they got home and.. She wasn’t sure she could bare to lose him. *** Willing to take the blame.. Her fault? Inappropriate. Your subordinate, Roy. Yeah, he knew that. He'd ignored it. He didn't care. It won't ever happen again. Mustang withdrew his hand, the good cheer had died on his face and his eyes looked dark again. He wanted to say he loved her. To tell her nothing else mattered, because who cared in this place? He wanted to tell her that this was the first time they had a chance to do what they wanted just because they could. But he didn’t, what difference would it make right now? She’d just deny it, find some excuse.. Aside from all the one’s she listed, that he knew already. He knew it was inappropriate. Roy furrowed his brows, thinned his lips and sat back a little, quiet. “... I didn't intend to put you in a compromising position, Lieutenant.” He said, tone formal, withdrawn. He didn't understand what this was. He thought- He loved her. Didn't she…? She'd never actually said the words though. Feeling stupid, Roy pulled everything back inside and looked at her again. Expression remote, he nodded curtly. “Of ccourse,” he said. “My mistake, Lieutenant.” It didn’t change anything. She didn’t want it to. *** “No, sir, please.” The blonde lifted her chin, expression set into a firm refusal of whatever reality he’d come up with regarding their.. Encounter. “You didn’t. It was me. I initiated it. I followed through with it. I wanted it--” She paused there, brown eyes locked onto his darker set for a few seconds before they dropped down to the elephant she held. Both hands moved out, setting the plushy creature down on the coffee table, so that she might fold her hands in a familiar way and press them down into her lap, near her knees. It was a formal, comfortable position. “I’m very sorry that..” She trailed off, the silence hanging there as she considered what to say. What could she say? “That I misled you. It is my job to keep you on your path, sir, this is a task you entrusted me with and I lead you astray and I won’t make that mistake again.” Because that was exactly what it was. He had a goal, a task, he needed to become Fuhrer, to set right all their wrongs. He couldn’t do that without her behind him, and she couldn’t be behind him if someone found out they were.. Well. She would have to resign. Then who would have his back? Not Hughes. Not anymore. It was only Hawkeye, and she’d put her position in jeopardy because she couldn’t control her heart. *** Her job. His path. He wanted to laugh. He didn’t, not this time, his manic high failed him which was probably for the best. His path though? His path. To live his life with one goal of becoming Fuhrer so he could end it and hope to save a few people along the way. Live a life to become Fuhrer but never actually live at all. That was the life he lived. That was his reality. He’d chosen it for himself, thus far his attempts at achieving something else were failing miserably. He was meant for something. And she was meant to be there behind him to push him along because he’d asked her to. She was the one good thing Roy had left, since Hughes had died. And… he wouldn’t risk losing her. God, he loved her, and she… He pushed a hand through his dark hair and then rubbed his face. “Let’s..” He was going to say ‘forget it ever happened’ but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. *** She could see the gears working in his head, she could see what he was thinking, just with the way his eyes shifted, the tell of his muscles moving beneath skin, his pattern of breathing. She saw it all as if she were reading from a script of the things he was thinking. Then he started to speak. His Lieutenant, confident and sure, would speak up and prevent him from going any further with that thought. “I think it’s important that you know, sir, if ever you were to choose another path, I would follow you. I would follow you anywhere, Colonel.” If he wanted to be Fuhrer, but decided to forgo his trials. If he, instead, wanted to choose a wife to be his First Lady. If he wanted little Mustangs running around the palace.. Or even if he decided he was ready to retire and live the life of a bachelor. Or.. if he decided to retire and find himself a male lover. Or if he decided, even after everything, that he still wanted her. She’d been his her entire life. His to do with as he saw fit, and he had. He’d given her a job. A task. He’d given her orders and she followed them faithfully. If his daily requests changed from military orders to times that they would meet for dinner? Well. She would follow those, just as loyally. *** She’d follow him anywhere. What if he didn’t know where he was going anymore? That was also her point, wasn’t it? If he lost his way… Find a new life plan, Roy. He wanted Hughes. He needed Hughes. Roy rubbed his face again and exhaled a short breath, almost a snort, a huff of air and small sounds that indicated some wry amusement. He wasn’t amused at all, of course. He just… he shut down, closed up, pulled the mask back on and looked at Hawkeye with expressions she’d learn to read through a decade ago. It didn’t matter, they were never for her, they were for him, so everything could fall into its proper place. “I know, Lieutenant, that’s why I reassigned you as my assistant,” he told her, ignoring his heart. He’d gotten a lot of practice doing that over the years. “That’s all I wanted to know, Hawkeye, you can go now.” *** She remained sitting there, silent for a few seconds, then she breathed in slowly and pushed up to her feet. “For what it’s worth..” Brown eyes found the elephant, lingering there before they once again found her commanding officer, “I think you would make a very fine husband and a better father, if you ever chose that path.” A pause. “Sir.” Leaving the elephant there-- it wasn’t as if it were hers, it was the pillow from his couch, after all-- she headed for the door. Once her hand set to it, she turned back and looked at him again. But silence hung. Brown eyes remained on his face. There was so much she wanted to say, to tell him, to explain, to make him understand. But she didn’t. She only stood there, watching him quietly, hand tightening on the door handle. She’d been dismissed. The Lieutenant needed to go. He wanted her to go. “Finish your lunch, Colonel.” Was all she could manage. Then the door opened and the blonde woman was headed out. *** Roy didn’t respond, he waited for Hawkeye to rise and walk away. He felt her lingering there at the door, then her last pathetic words came out and he smiled faintly. But he didn’t eat. He reached into his pocket for the little white glove, pulled it on with a slow motion and then, without looking at it, burned the little grey elephant with a snap of his fingers. When it was cinders on the table, Roy flopped back onto the couch and tucked his glove away again, sighing to himself and draping an arm over his face. Not how he’d wanted that conversation to go. But nothing with Hawkeye ever went as planned. *** Hawkeye was a hard woman to talk to, if you were Roy Mustang. Really, if Roy had wanted some good advice, he might have gone to Alphonse, who apparently knew the two of them very intimately in his world. Then again.. It would have been a dead end. Alphonse had learned everything he knew about women from Roy, and Roy didn’t know what to do with Riza. Useless. It was dinner time that Riza showed up. She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. More nothing. Eventually, she’d used that key and gone inside to find an empty apartment.. So the Lieutenant had sat down on his couch, stared at the pile of ashes on the coffee table, and waited. She would have waited all night. She did wait all night. He didn’t come home before lunch the next day, she’d be out looking for him. *** Roy wasn’t home, how he’d made it home was another question entirely and far more important than the question of where he’d been. Though… the answer to that was probably a little obvious, because he stumbled through the door like a barely upright rag doll, leaning against the frame for support for a moment while he looked around the interior. Was he in the right- His eyes landed on a blonde head, brown eyes turning to look at him. Roy stared back. Shit. Well. Oh well. He smiled at Hawkeye, “Lieutenant,” he said, slurring the word only slightly. He made it through the door, somehow managed to set the bottle of terrible alcohol he was holding onto a nearby corner table, then stumbled his way across the living room. “I’m very drunk.” He grinned wider. He felt wonderful, though. Sore, sure, but that was part of the ‘wonderful.’ *** The woman stood up slowly and as he came stumbling towards her, she stepped forward to reach out and grasp onto him, to ensure he wouldn’t fall. He smelled like cheap space whiskey. Cheap space whiskey and.. And.. Her face fell blank as she held him there. He smelled like sex. Well. That was his choice. It wasn’t like he belonged to her. So why did it make her chest hurt? “Yes, sir, you are. I’m glad you made it home safely.” He smelled. Like liquor. Like sweat. Like sex. “You need a shower and to lay down.” Lest he fall and hurt himself. He wasn’t exactly stable on his feet, but thankfully she had plenty of experience with him like this. But not for a long while. *** Her expression went blank. Roy’s eyes narrowed. He knew why. “You don’t get to be angry,” he said, with a little more vehemence than he’d intended. But, well, there it was. He was right, anyway, she didn’t get to stab him in the heart and then turn around and be blank faced with her terrible eyes and her awful silences when he went out and did whatever it was that he did to fucking cope with it. Roy pulled away from her, sort of. She had a strong grip and she’d been holding onto him as if she’d expected him to fall over. So he didn’t go anywhere. He blinked at her. His expression dropped a little. “Why are you here?” *** She wasn’t angry. But she didn’t say as much. She kept her silence. She wasn’t angry. But the silence wouldn’t convey exactly what she was thinking. How could it? She wasn’t angry. Riza Hawkeye was jealous. And the blonde kept tight hold of him as he tried to pull away, so he wouldn’t fall over in his exuberance to get away. Then he was asking why she was there and those brown eyes just studied his lax, drunken face. No matter what she said, he wouldn’t hear it, not with that much alcohol in him. He’d hear whatever he wanted to. What did it matter? He wouldn’t remember this come morning. So the Lieutenant didn’t worry too much about the sound of her voice, just the quality of her words. “I brought you dinner, sir.” She sounded oddly vulnerable. Her words, however, were sure. It would probably be confusing for the Colonel’s drunk mind. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” So she could put him to bed. *** I brought you dinner, sir. “I don’t recall asking for it,” he replied. He stared at her. Her brown eyes were just as fierce as they always were, her tone had been something else, her words were even more useless than the whole of it. Dinner. She’d brought him dinner…. He repeated the words a few times but the sentence didn’t become any more clearer than the first time she said it. Was it meant to be significant? Oh well. Lots of that happening tonight, when the Colonel decided whatever was happening didn’t matter. He tilted his head to the left. Bad idea, the rest of him tilted listlessly that way, too. Lucky she was holding on. “Whoa,” he chuckled, reaching out to stabilize himself with a hand on her arm. “I should.. “ he didn’t finish the sentence before he started to sink down so he could sit. Or lay on the floor, that looked more likely. He was very drunk. *** “Sir--” She tightened her hold, one arm slipping around his waist and pulling him in close against her when he’d started to tilt. Her other hand released his bicep and wrapped around his waist with the second as he’d begun to sink down. “No sleeping on the floor, Colonel, come on, we need to get you cleaned up, then into your bed.” It wasn’t too much to ask and she may have let him skip the shower, if he hadn’t smelled like sweat and sex. Well, this wasn’t the first time she’d done this for him, it wouldn’t be the last. “Just hold onto me and do your best to make your legs work.” Because she couldn’t carry him. She could, however, guide his drunk body away from the couch and towards the bathroom in the master bedroom. “Just a little further.” If he cooperated, she’d flip the toilet lid closed and sit him down on it. “There we go.” He was sitting. He could even lean back and get comfortable while his aide leaned to start the shower for him. *** He made it, somehow, with her support. He was sitting on the seat of the toilet rather bonelessly, his eyes half closed and his mouth hanging open. She said words, they didn’t make it to his ears, but he did blink his eyes open in a vague attempt at waking himself up. The light was bright. Roy looked up at it, offended that it was glaring so brightly in his damned eyes. It won though, because he looked away and found Hawkeye’s back instead, because she was busying herself with the shower. Pretty sight. Roy leaned forward a little, one hand braced against the counter so he could reach out for her with the other without falling on his face. “Why don’t you love me?” Drunk words, sober thoughts. *** She felt his fingers brush across her side. She heard those words. Brown eyes lowered to the water rushing from the faucet, watching as it poured onto the white, slick bottom of the tub. What could she say to that? She wanted to tell him that she did love him. She wanted him to know. So why was it so hard to get those words out? The shower head turned on and the woman straightened and turned to face him. “Everyone loves you, sir.” Came the Lieutenant’s answer. His men loved him, anyway.. Not so much everyone else in the military. But, still. Her hands came out to push his coat from his shoulders, letting it fall to the toilet behind him, then slip to the floor. Once that was done, she was beginning to undo the buttons on his dress shirt. Honestly, Hawkeye was a little concerned with what she might find under his shirt. Scratch marks? Hickeys? Bruises? Did it matter? What he did on his own time was his business. Shirt pushed from his shoulders, her hands dropped to start taking his belt and trousers off. “You’ll feel better once you’ve cleaned off.” *** “Except you,” he replied steadily, then smiled. He was a happy drunk, generally. It fueled his manic moods, it let him feel something other than ugly and dark. It stopped the nightmares. That was why he’d gone out, because he could exhaust himself with someone else and pass out until morning and not worry about the in between hours or the lies his brain liked to tell him in his dreams. And here she wanted to wash it away, to make him sober up when he’d gone out so he didn’t have to face reality. She was undressing him though and the Colonel didn’t have the mind to process that and his errant thoughts at once, so he settled for watching her dumbly. His shirt came off (how had he even managed to button it right the first time?) and then his trousers were following. She’d been so efficient at getting her own clothes off that night.. Oh, but he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that, was he? “Careful, Lieutenant,” he said in that stupidly cool tone of his, “keep touching me and something might happen. Wanna get in the shower with me? There’s enough room for two.” *** “Come on. Up.” She wasn’t answering any of his silly questions. With his shoes and socks off, his trousers missing (if he’d remembered to put his underwear back on, they would stay.. But if not? Well, it was better that way, because that was one of the areas that definitely needed to be hit by the water!), Riza would pull him up to his feet and help him to step under the spray of the warm water. Then, without hesitation, the Lieutenant climbed in with him and shut the curtain behind them to keep the bathroom clean. Like Hell he was going to fall and crack his head open on her watch. The woman in her civilian’s clothes would pull the Colonel in close and put them under the spray of the water, to wet his hair and wash the water down his back, and along his arms and shoulders. How stupid was it, that standing, fully clothed (boots and all) in the shower with Mustang, drunk as a skunk and stinking of sex, reminded her how much she loved him? He needed her. She had resolved a long time ago to always be there for him. Where had she been when he’d needed her earlier today? Where had she been when he’d needed her thirty seconds ago? Except you. “I do love you, sir. Just like everyone else.” There. There it was. *** At least the water was warm. At least she’d climbed in after him--how many times had she done it over the years?--looking like a drenched cat with mean brown eyes and sure hands, trying to act indifferent to the indignities it was made to suffer. The idea made Mustang laugh, he chuckled lowly at first then the noise increased and before he knew it he had a hand against the shower wall for support and was giggling at something he didn’t even decently remember just then. What had he- Oh, yeah, cats. Water. He grinned like an idiot, but it faded slowly when Hawkeye said the words. I do love you sir. Just like everyone else. Not what he wanted. And why the hell would she say it now, even if it was only in part, after going the lengths she had earlier to make him back away? What the fuck was wrong with women? It was confusing. “I don’t buy it,” he said instead, no matter how much the rest of him wanted to believe even that much. “I don’t want to be pacified tonight, Hawkeye, stop trying.” *** I don’t buy it. Hawkeye was slow to anger, but she toed the line with his statement and the blonde woman lifted her chin some, dark eyes narrowing down. She wanted to strike him for those stupid words. Just four words. Those four words made her angry enough to want to lash out. So she did, even if it was only verbally. “I would put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger if you told me to, sir.” He was drunk. He wouldn’t understand. But she gave it a second to sink in, anyway. “You don’t get to say that you don’t believe that I love you. No one loves you more than I do.” With that said, she stepped back again, pulling him with her and letting the spray from the showerhead pelt him in the face. Take that, Colonel. *** He didn’t have time to respond to that before the water was spraying into his face. Drunk as he was, it took a second or three for him to figure out what to do about it before he turned his face away and raised a hand blearily to block the jet of water partially. Now that they both looked like drenched cats… He grinned again. “Alright,” he said, “I got the point…” Did he? If he were sober he might have realized. Who else did these things for him? Who else was always there. Who swept him off the floor when he was too whatever to get himself back up. Who stood by through every little thing no matter how exhausting, terrifying, humiliating, or just plain stupid over the years? Hawkeye. Roy was drunk though. The water helped clear his head a little, but only just. The Colonel scrubbed at his face with both hands. He wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. “I keep hurting you, don’t I?” *** She doubted he would remember any of this. Somehow, it made it easier. “I don’t mind, sir.” That he kept hurting her. “You’re worth it.” And he would simply have to accept that, take the woman at her word. Once he was thoroughly washed off, she urged him carefully from the shower, then climbed out behind him, snagging a towel and wrapping up his naked body in the warm, white, fluffy fabric. Her hands furiously scrubbed over him to help get him dry, but would inevitably leave that towel in Roy’s less than capable hands for a moment, while she got a second towel to begin drying his hair off. “You’ll feel better in the morning.” Brown eyes were avoiding his face. She wanted to kiss him. He was so far gone. He wouldn’t remember any of this in the morning. Just one kiss wouldn’t hurt. *** He held the towel, anyway. He was still standing of his own volition. He was butt naked in front of her while doing both of those things, not even trying to look decent despite the fact all of him was hanging out in the open. He was drunk. Too drunk to care and it wasn’t the first time she’d done this anyway. She’d probably seen his nether region more times than any other woman or man had, since Roy generally didn’t keep them around long enough for them to develop thoughts about commitment or whathaveyou. But Hawkeye had always been there. The only one who stuck around. She started drying his hair, Roy dropped the towel he was holding. Whoops. Manual dexterity was going out the window. It didn’t stop him from reaching up to pluck with haphazard, unsteady fingers at her own wet clothes, trying to peel the layers away. She was soaked. *** She was soaked. And he was drunk. She wagered he was far too drunk to figure out how to get her clothes off, considering she was wearing a button-down shirt. At least trying to get those buttons undone would keep him busy as his Lieutenant dried him off. Hair left just damp, she moved that towel down over his shoulders to continue drying, since he’d dropped his own towel. The Lieutenant’s face was softer, somehow. It always was when she dealt with him like this. Somehow, when drunk, he was so much more.. Well.. innocent. Somehow. So he could desperately try to undress her while she finished up with him, before dropping that towel and grabbing the last one off the shelf, to wrap it around his waist and tuck the tail in so it would remain, giving the poor Colonel a bit of modesty. “It’s time for bed, sir.” She informed him simply. *** Nope. No buttons came undone. It proved a frustratingly difficult task while his mind struggled to inform his fingers how to perform the ordinarily simple operation. She was finished drying him by the time he’d loosened just two of them. He’d given up after that and just grabbed a hold of her instead, leaning heavily into the woman as they stepped back into the bedroom. Bed time. Sure. He didn’t want to have dreams tonight. He also didn’t want to bother trying to climb into clothes, so he detached himself from Hawkeye when they got close to the bed and more or less dove for it in his haze, grabbing hold of the blankets in both fists to drag himself across the surface until he was far enough he could flop lifelessly down and stop moving. He hadn’t quite made it all the way onto the bed, but at least the towel had stuck around for most of the way so he wasn’t showing her his backside. His legs still hung just a bit off the edge, but his torso seemed fairly secure, and he’d turned his head so he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. Just in case. “Hawkeye,” he slurred. “Stay a while.” *** This wasn’t the worst time she’d had to deal with him. So as he dragged himself across her bed, Hawkeye was mildly amused and would simply watch until he fell motionless, and only then did she step forward and tug the towel off of his body, dropping it on the floor for now, and taking his legs to push and press, urging him fully on. Only once that task was done did the Lieutenant grab the blanket at the foot of the bed and pull it up and over his prone, bare body, covering him up to his shoulders and tucking it in beneath him in certain places. There. All taken care of. Leaning, she’d press damp lips to his temple and linger a second before finally pulling away, a hand stroking through equally damp hair. “Of course, sir.” She would stay. Someone had to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit and die. Straightening, Riza dug through his side drawer to find those white gloves and collected them for herself, tucking them into a thoroughly wet pocket. “Are you warm enough?” She loved this man. *** He’d only be warmer if she caught him on fire. Fortunately that was his skill and something he wasn’t capable of doing just then. So he murmured a sound of agreement, or maybe it was just a grunt? He didn’t know, but it came out, and then nothing else did. His eyes had fallen closed, his breathing evened, and under the watchful gaze of the Hawk’s Eyes, Roy fell asleep. He wouldn’t remember anything that happened come morning, though he’d wonder how he’d ended up naked in his own bed. That didn’t usually happen unless there was an equally naked partner lurking somewhere waiting for him to open his eyes. Come morning, the whole situation would confuse him. But for now, Roy forgot about everything and he simply slept with the motionless silence of the dead. Or in this case, just the silence of the deliriously drunk. *** Over the years, certainly Roy would have picked up clues. When Riza brought him home, he often found his uniform hung up, his shoes put near the door, the empty liquor bottles thrown out, and any dirty laundry put into the hamper. When he woke the next morning, those same clues would be there. Riza, though, had made herself scarce once morning came and she knew he’d be waking up. She’d left pills and a glass of water on his bedside table. But that was just Hawkeye, always taking care of her wayward Mustang. |