Joined: 20-January 06
From: it's a cross between a love hate thing...
Member No.: 29,658
Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or its characters/settings/etc. in any way, whatsoever, as much as I wish I did. If I did, I would already have made it royAi, at least three seasons, fluffy, and it wouldn't be titled FMA.
Worse Than a Blind Date
A royAi story
“If I could say what I wanna say. I’d say I wanna blow you, away. Be with you every night. Am I squeezing you too tight. If I could say what I wanna see. I wanna see you go down, on one knee, ‘Marry Me Today!’ I guess I’m wishing my Life away. With these things I’ll never say.”
- Things I’ll Never Say, Avril Lavigne-
“Sir, we can’t.”
“But, Riza, we are.”
He pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her soft lips made him never want to let her go. They conveniently landed on a soft plushy reclining chair in the corner of the room, which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. They heard groans and gasps ringing throughout the room. His hands were wrapped around her waist to bring them closer together. He was surprised that she didn’t pull away. He took the chance to try entering her mouth, but taken aback when her tongue entered his mouth instead. It grazed around his lips, and had a wonderful tickling sensation. Her lips had a really nice feeling to them, and her weight on him seemed all too natural. Then, the phone rang.
“Aw, just five more minutes. Your lips feel really good.”
“But they’re really soft,” he murmured, still half asleep.
The phone rang again, and there was a gun click in his ear. He snapped up and picked up the phone, trying to act like he hadn’t been asleep, or dreaming about kissing her.
“Hello?” he answered.
“Oh hell. I mean, er, oh hello,” he had not expected her to call.
“Yes Aunt Portia?” he answered in a sing-songy voice, signing some papers.
“It’s good to talk to you again sweetie.”
“I wish I could say the same,” he muttered under his breath.
“What’s that?” his aunt asked in a sharp voice.
“Nothing. Please wrap this up Aunt Portia, I need to work,” he convincingly lied.
At this statement the Lieutenant –no, his Lieutenant- arched a brow. He rolled his eyes at the phone, and Riza rolled her eyes at him.
“Roy! Are you even listening to me?” the voice demanded.
“No. You know I’m not Aunt Portia.”
“Well, listen. Jennie has a friend who she wants to introduce to you.”
“Aww, not this again,” he complained.
“Don’t you aw at me Roy Mustang!”
“I’m perfectly capable of finding my own girlfriend,” he said, now twirling a pen around in his fingers.
“Are you? Well then why are you always complaining about one night stands?”
“I do not!” he cried out indignantly, “I have found perfectly fine girlfriends. I am all too capable of choosing a girlfriend.”
“Roy Mustang! Don’t think news hasn’t reached me about my idiot playboy of a nephew dating every girl in Central that he comes across!” she snapped.
“Really Aunt Portia, don’t you know rumors are never accurate? There’s still one girl in Central that I haven’t dated, and she’s sitting right next to me,” he said, more in an attempt to tease Riza, than to give his aunt ulcers.
With that the Lieutenant, his Lieutenant fired few shots past his ear.
“I’m joking Hawkeye! Don’t kill me!” he exasperated.
“Really Roy!” his aunt snapped in disdain.
“I don’t want to Aunt Portia. Must I remind you of what happened last time?”
“You’re too picky Roy.”
“Really Aunt Portia, I don’t want to. All of my blind dates have been a disaster,” he said sighing.
“Roy, your brothers, your younger brothers, I remind you, are both happily married, and you’re still without a girlfriend.”
“You cannot force me into dating.”
“Goodbye Auntie Dearest,” he said in a sarcastic voice, slamming down the receiver.
“Easy on the phone sir,” his Lieutenant said.
He was boiling. He hated it when his Aunt called for the sake of dating. He must have told her at least a hundred times he hated blind dating.
“Your Aunt again,” Riza commented.
“Yes, what do you think?” he answered stiffly, trying not to think about his aunt. He leaned against his hand in a pouting position.
“That wasn’t a question,” she replied sharply. “So, she wanted to introduce you to another woman?”
“Yeah. She told me she’s a nice girl. That’s what she said about the last one.”
“Oh, the last one,” she pressed, still nonchalantly reading.
“The one who dumped you?”
“She didn’t dump me! I dumped her!” he defended, straightening up.
“Yes sir,” she answered, “You know she only has your best interests at hand.”
He had a strong suspicion that she was holding back a laugh.
He sat there, trying not to remember his last blind date. But what if the girl was really worth it this time? That was his problem: too softhearted for his own good! He couldn’t help but regret hanging up on his aunt. He couldn’t reduce his pride to call her back, so he sat there grumbling, while signing papers. Sometimes, when he visited his aunt, she would ramble on about how he should settle down. Settle down? Who wanted to settle down? There was so much more out there. Could there possible be one person who he could be satisfied with to love, and to live with for the rest of his life? His eyes immediately turned to the Lieutenant. His Lieutenant. It had a nice ring to it, even if it was illegal.
God damned fraternization law. But, it did give him a good feeling thinking of her as his Lieutenant. He was about to pick up another piece of paper, but there was no more.
He looked up, and the clock read 1700 hours. His office didn’t get out until 1800 hours. He was highly astonished that he actually finished his paperwork, before they were due.
“Is that all the paperwork for today?”
He looked around to see that others had very little paperwork also. For once he could sit back at the office without his Lieutenant breathing down his back. His Lieutenant. She had been a prominent figure of his own solitary love interest. It wasn’t an obsession, but he definitely liked her more than as just a subordinate, or a friend. He sighed and leaned back. His dream was nice though. It felt very real, almost too real. He glanced over at her again. She had her nose in a book, as usual.
He must have looked very strange when she tried to wake him up. He could just picture himself: lips all puckered, and hands moving around in midair. He sighed again, and slapped his forehead. Why did he have to be so freaking perverted! Everyone threw at him a strange look, as if to say: I always knew he was a loon, now a sadist?
“What? Can’t I be a sadist?” he asked.
“No sir, but we wouldn’t want the future Fuhrer killing people for his own enjoyment, now would we?” Riza asked, smiling.
Everyone laughed, and Roy feeling quite snubbed leaned back again and tried to dig himself in a book. How was it that her replies were always so cold, yet so warm? It made no sense to him, as he thought about it; he kept rereading the same page over and over again. He was sick of the words in that sentence, and could now recite it perfectly without looking at it. Suddenly someone snatched the book out of his hands. It was Havoc.
“Hello, welcome to Mustang’s personal space, Mustang’s face here, how may I help you?” he asked irritably.
“Come on Chief. We’re going to the club,” he said, grinning.
“We?” he asked.
“Yeah, don’t you want to come?”
“Not particularly. I think I’ll go home and sleep for more than four hours for once,” he said.
“What about you Lieutenant?” Havoc asked Riza.
“You know what my answer is Havoc.”
“Really sirs, you are boring,” Havoc taunted, attempting reverse psychology.
They sat there, as cold as stone.
“Do you two really not want to go?”
“Yes.” they answered.
Havoc, dumbfounded, stood back and stroked his chin as if deep in though. Then grabbed his arm, and swooped Riza over his shoulder like a potato sack. There wasn’t much resistance on his part; he figured trying to hold both Riza’s legs would be a hard enough task by itself. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy as he saw Havoc’s arm around her legs.
“Havoc! Dammit! Let me go now! This is so getting you a demotion!” Riza yelled, losing her composure. She was flailing her arms around, slapping Havoc in the head.
Finally the green monster jumped out and snapped.
“Okay, Havoc. I think the world has had enough of your perverted fun for one day,” he said coldly.
“Sorry Chief,” Havoc answered grinning.
Riza then slapped Havoc. Everyone, including himself, cracked up.
“Come on, R- I- uh- Lieutenant, live a little. I mean you’re only 26 once,” he persuaded.
“Please? I’m begging here Lieutenant,” he beseeched, giving her an irresistible look.
“Fine,” she gave in, rolling her eyes.
He flashed a quick grin in her direction, and silently cheered to himself.
Flame 1, Bullet 2: Let’s go honey
“Just another day, started out like any other. Just another girl, who took my breath away.
Then she turned around, she took me down, just another day thatI had the best day of my life.”
-Best Day of My Life, Jesse McCartney-
There they were, in front of Central HQ, waiting for a woman. Wow, how pathetic. It was like one of those men who waited with their girlfriend’s purses outside of the bathroom, despicable. He kicked a rock around as the rest of them waited in the car. He didn’t particularly feel enthused about standing around all day, but nonetheless waited for his Lieutenant.
“Hawkeye!” he yelled out after a while. He looked at Havoc; or rather he threw a dirty look at him.
“You dragged me into this God damned mess Havoc,” he pivoted on his heel impatiently, and turned his head, “You should really get a demotion. I-”
The rest of that sentence didn’t even register when he saw her. Even though most of it was due to the fact that she always kept a plain look about her, she looked ten times more beautiful than usual. He was surprised at how much a little make up and a different outfit could do.
“Sir?” a voice brought him back.
Riza was about to get in the car, but then realized it was too small for all of them. The car was too small for six soldiers.
She looked at him.
“You go ahead,” he said.
“No, I won’t go,” she replied, leaning against the door.
“No, you go.”
“No, you go!”
“Jeez, you sound like newlyweds arguing over where to put the furniture!” Havoc joked, butting in. “How about you sirs come in a different car?” Havoc suggested.
They gave him a glare. They had been set up, but seeing how it made perfect sense, they weren’t going to reject the idea. Throwing him another dirty glare, they walked to another car. They awkwardly got it. It wasn’t anything when they were in uniform, but somehow being in civilian clothing made it totally different. They were tense as they got in. To make matters worse, Riza’s seatbelt was stuck. She would tug and tug, but victory was not to be found. Finally he pulled the seat belt, and it slid out perfectly fine. He buckled it for her. When he looked up, their faces were barely two inches away from each other. He quickly turned back to the steering wheel, blushing furiously. He took deep breaths trying to regain his usually pale complexion. He peered at her from the corner of his eye, she looked relatively unfazed, except. Wait, was that pink in her cheeks?
They were stiffer than ever. He was going to kill Havoc. He had a strong urge to crash into Havoc’s car, but remembered that it wasn’t his car. He gripped the wheel even harder, and his knuckles turned white.
“When I’m Fuhrer, I’m going to knock him down to corporal,” he muttered.
They reached their destination. He leaned back and sighed. He really felt like starting up the engine and going back home, but of course his male subordinates lined around his car. He pulled up the latch, and therefore locking the door. Still, somehow five minutes later, he found himself being dragged into club by none other than Jean Havoc.
“Really Havoc, I could yell out rape and you could be arrested as a homosexual molester,” he said at the front door.
“Trust me Chief, you’ll thank me for this,” he persisted.
Thank him? For what? Havoc, that bastard. Did he know? No, he couldn’t know. Havoc can’t know. That big mouth would spread it all around Central.
Inside it was loud, the same as ever. Exactly how he hated it; drunk people dancing, it was entirely too loud, and the lights were blinding. Okay, so the light and the sound was all an excuse to make him self feel better, but the drunken people running around hitting on girls just pissed him of. He secluded himself at the table. He was trying to keep Riza and the rest of his subordinates under the impression that he really did not want to come.
He danced occasionally when someone (usually Riza) could persuade him to. He remained at his seat for most of the time. He skimmed the room. He spotted a bunch of drunks hitting on a girl. Even he didn’t go that low. He hit on them while he was sober. He looked more closely. It was Riza. He impulsively sprung up.
“Feisty are we?”
“Just to fuckoffs like you, yes,” she replied.
“Whoa, chick you need to calm down and show some respect.”
“Respect, to a drunk asswipe?” she questioned, giving a questionable smirk.
“What are you doing here, a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be here alone,” a man said a slurred voice.
“That’s because she’s not. What are you thugs doing to my fiancée?”
“Roy!” she called out, as he walked to her.
The men gave him a gape. They did not expect the woman’s ‘fiancé’ to pop out of nowhere.
“I would appreciate in the future if you kept your hands off of her,” he said in a disgusted tone.
“Come on baby, let’s just go,” she said, holding onto his arm.
He gave her a surprised look, and then took the cue. He put his arm around her, and held her free hand. He walked away, relatively happy. It wasn’t everyday he got save his Lieutenant from a bunch of drunk thugs, right? She played along, and they went to the table.
He was such a good actor. He really needed to get onto the big screen.
She was about to sit down when he said, “Wait, er, Lieutenant. Let’s” he motioned to the dance floor.
She looked at him uncertainly. He then pressed, “It’s them or me,” looking at the thugs. She then rolled her eyes, and pulled him to the dance floor. Of all dances, it turned to a slow dance as soon as they reached the floor.
“Great,” he muttered under his breath, “more awkwardness.”
They stood there awkwardly, staring at their feet, looking for a way out of the crowd of dancing couples.
“Come on Chief, dance,” Havoc said, seeming to be highly entertained by their embarrassment.
“Yeah sirs,” Breda chimed in.
At this point it was too rude to walk away, and there was a lot of pressure on both of them. Partially voluntary, and partially out of respect, they danced. He hesitantly placed his arms around her wais, and she slid her arms around his neck in a stiff manner. They avoided continuous eye contact.
“What’s wrong sir? You seemed to be having fun earlier?”
“Do you need more to argue over than where to place the furniture?”
When they heard his male subordinates cracking down on them they started to talk.
“So General, how did we get here?”
“Drunk thugs groping on you, Havoc, and Breda,” he answered.
“Right,” she replied grimacing.
As they dance they loosened up a little. Well technically, he was in heaven, dancing with his Lieutenant. He didn’t want to look eager though, so he remained calm. Even as they loosened up, their bodies were quite far away. He wanted to bridge that gap so badly. He took that chance when a couple bumped into them. As she tried to pull away, he pulled her closer. Then, as soon as their bodies touched, she backed away. He wasn’t going to pull her back to him. By now he didn’t know whether he was going to grill Havoc into his next three course meal, or hand him promotion slips.
They walked back to the table much to the dismay of the others. What were they, betting on him? He had a very strong suspicion that they were. With that in mind he took a swig of beer. He saw Riza walk out, but he didn’t stop her. Besides, what would he say to her once he got hold of her? Riza, you’re the love of my life, marry me?
“What’s wrong sir? You look like you lost something,” Fuery said.
“Yeah, I suppose you could say that,” he answered, draining the rest of the bottle.
“Is it a woman?” Fuery inquired.
He choked on his beer, and then he replied stiffly, “No.”
“Hey sir, you look down,” Breda said, pulling up a chair.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, tipping the bottle over to his lips. The bittersweet taste ran over his tongue. He wiped his mouth.
“Well for the record sir, you’ve drank three bottles in the past five minutes,” Fuery pointed out.
He glanced over at his bottle pyramid.
“Oh, that,” he murmured, cracking open a new one.
“Sir! Not to accuse or anything, but you don’t look so good,” Falman remarked.
“So I’ve heard,” he replied in disdain. He was starting to lose his patience.
“What’s all this about the Chief looking depressed?” Havoc asked, hanging over the table like a restless ghost. “Aw, did you lose her Chief? I though I gave you two a pretty good push,” Havoc scratched his head in wonder.
He resisted the strong urge to slap Havoc across the backside of his head. He instead, decided to drain all the bottles of its contents on his side of the table. After a few hours, he had a nice pyramid going.
“You’re going to kill yourself.”
“Drinking never killed anyone, well maybe it has, but not me,” he stated in a rather slurred voice.
He placed his head on the table, feeling sick.
“Come on Chief,” Havoc said, trying to get him up.
“I don’t feel like it,” he replied.
“Right now, you ought to feel like barfing, I know, but let’s go!” Havoc urged still attempting to get him up.
He pushed him again and again. He even tried pulling on his shirt collar. Suddenly he stopped altogether.
“Sir,” a different voice said gently, “sir.”
A gun clicked in his ear. For the second time that day, he sprung up.
“That’s more like it,” she smirked.
“He’s being boozing pretty hard,” Breda warned, as she slung his arm over her shoulder.
“Don’t worry, I have this,” she indicated her gun.
“Right,” Havoc answered backing away.
She dragged him into the car in the sprinkling rain. She practically shoved him into the backseat and took control of the wheel. She was afraid something like this would happen. It could have been worse. As soon as that though crossed her mind the raindrops fell harder. Great.
“Hey Lieutenant,” he said in a slurred voice.
Trying as hard as she could, she pulled him out of the seat. What did she do to deserve this? Oh, of course, she just had to save his sorry ass. It was pelting hard bullets, and they were both drenching wet.
“Why are you so heavy?” she muttered as she unlocked the door.
She must have been dragging close to 200 lbs. to her door. She was staggering under his weight as she opened her bedroom door. Suddenly he ran to the bathroom, holding his mouth. She could hear retching sounds from her bathroom. She winced as the sounds got louder. Finally as the sounds died and she heard water running, she walking into the bathroom with a towel. She dragged the drunk onto the edge of the bathtub, and began to dry his hair. She sighed.
“Hi Lieutenant,” the still slurred voice said.
“Hello General,” she replied coolly.
“You look really mad, are you mad?”
“No sir, just terribly wet.”
“Well I think you look prettier with your hair down like that.”
She didn’t answer. Then almost as if feeling the tense silence, he got up. She immediately, out of impulse, grabbed onto his collar, and down the two fell. A few second later, they were situated in her bathtub. She had a throbbing headache, and was close to murdering the man on top of her, the drunken man on top of her.
His alcohol-ridden breath was in her face. She didn’t want to make eye contact. She tried as hard as she could to keep her face out of his.
Their faces became unbearably close. As she turned her face, her lips grazed his. Then, they met. At first, she tried to resist, even attempted to reach for her gun, but failed dismally. He grabbed her hand with one of his own. Then, she broke free, not to reach her guns, but to drape her arms over his neck and shoulders. They slowly attempted to sit up, and his arms wrapped around her wais for the second time that night. This time she willingly got closer to him. She lost herself within the kiss. Even with the alcoholic breath, his lips felt so smooth, and warm. Then when his tongue entered her mouth, she bit it. In pain, he broke off. She gasped for breath. She breathed heavily.
“Hi Lieutenant,” he said, the slur in his voice was totally gone now.
His arms were still around her waist and hers around his neck. Just realizing this, they broke the grasp.
“I think it’s bleeding,” he said, smiling.
“That’s what you get, just intruding in on my mouth like that,” she answered, “sir” she added grudgingly. She tried to get up.
“I think I like this position, let’s stay here all day,” he groaned.
This time, she was ready, and cocked her gun.
“Yeah, uh, this bathtub is really uncomfortable Lieutenant, how do you take baths in this thing?” he slowly lifted himself out of the tub.
He tried to smart talk his way out the awkwardness of the situation, and was failing. He had kissed her while he was drunk! He had a splitting headache, and was close to barfing.
“So sir, I supposed you can go home now,” Riza stated. Walking towards the kitchen.
"Yes sir. Home, the place where one lives.” she said sharply.
“But it’s raining Lieutenant.”
“Wonderful sir, you’ve comprehended precipitation.”
“But it’s raining,” he emphasized raining.
She got up from the kitchen table and rummaged through her coat closet.
“Here you go sir,” she said, handing him an umbrella.
“It’s ugly,” he complained.
“It was designed to keep you dry, not to look fashionable.”
Admitting defeat, he sighed and walked out of the front door.
“Goodbye sir,” she said saluting.
As soon as he walked out, she sighed and slumped into a sofa in the living room. She had kissed her superior, and he didn’t say anything about it. Well of course he wouldn’t. The man’s a philanderer! Her face was still hot from the incident, and she had a strange feeling that her General, no the General, hadn’t left yet. She washed her face, and dried it off with a towel she used earlier. It had his scent. It was like a constant reminder saying: “He’s outside.” Ignoring the voice in her head, she threw the towel into the hamper and started up the water to take a shower.
She thought the situation over. It was a once in a lifetime thing. Her stomach was in a knot. Her brain said no, but her heart said yes. Unlike most women who would follow their hearts, she followed her brain. Her brain said that it was wrong, and the two would be stripped of their ranks. Her job was more important than a man, right? That was how she thought. Her brain wasn’t set up to where emotions were her top priority. Her promise to him was first, and her life was second. Her emotions and feeling were the last things on the list of priorities. Well, if her number one priority had to do with him, may be she could… No. She couldn’t. He was supposed to be her commanding officer and nothing more.
She pulled back the shower curtains and wrapped her towel around her body and looked into the mirror. He thought she looked prettier with her hair down.
“Riza, he was drunk you moron!” she yelled out, hating herself, “having him is totally out of the question,” she whispered.
After drying off her hair and getting dressed, she fell onto her bed. The day was too long, so much had happened. She wished there was a rewind button, like in motion pictures. She would rewind to 1800 hours that day, and refuse to go. Then none of this would have happened.
‘But you liked it,’ a voice whispered inside her head.
“That’s exactly the problem! I liked it! It felt good! It felt right! Even though I know it’s wrong!” she exclaimed out loud.
As the rain fell harder, and the wind blew more harshly the thoughts crept back to her. He was probably out there, freezing cold. God what if he got hypothermia! Surely he couldn’t be so stupid to stand out to stand there while she neglected him for hours, right?
‘You know he’s out there,’ the voice crept back as she pulled the covers over her.
“Ahh! Why is it always me?” she yelled out. With that Black Hayate gave a whimper at his seemingly schizophrenic and pms-ish mommy.
She got out of bed and opened the door. There he was, the idiot in the suit with an ugly pink umbrella topped with polka dots. She sighed.
“I told you it was raining,” he chattered.
“Come in sir,” she ordered.
He did so. He was chattering. She pushed him into the bathroom. Meanwhile she heated up some water on the stove. She looked through her closets for blankets and an extra pillow. How did she always fall for it?
She leaned against the bathroom door.
“Yeah, uh, you never gave me a towel.”
What are you talking about! Of course I-" she remembered that in her hurry she didn’t think to give him a towel, or did she? “-didn’t give you one.”
Knowing what he was capable of, she planned to whisk it quickly in the door. She grabbed a towel and called out, “Sir.”
“I’m opening the door,” she warned.
She shut her eyes, and aimlessly threw the towel in the door. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her wrist.
“Um, t-there was already one here,” he quickly said.
“Use the new one sir,” she answered.
“A- all right, thanks,” he then let go of her wrist.
“Yes, sir,” she felt a sort of emptiness when he let go of her wrist, but ignored it.
She was an idiot.
Flame 1, Bullet 3: That night at her house
“This could be my one last chance to make you understand. I’d do anything, just to hold you in my arms. I try to make you laugh, ‘cause somehow I can’t put you in the past. I’d do anything just to fall asleep with you. Will you remember me? ‘Cause I know I won’t forget you.”
-I’d do anything, Simple Plan-
He was an idiot. He wanted so badly to grab her, and hold her in his arms, but of course, he chickened out at the last second. He hated himself as he dried his hair off. With a towel wrapped around his waist he walked out of the bathroom.
“Sir, are you-” Riza walked into the room. Her eyes got wide in shock, and then she immediately turned around. “Sorry. I, uh- I’ll come back in a sec.”
He bit his tongue, and without meaning to, right where she had bit it earlier that evening. He squirmed in pain and ran back into the bathroom, cheeks hot, tongue shot through with pain. He had momentarily forgotten about his Lieutenant. His Lieutenant. He couldn’t have her. He pondered for a long time. He took an extra long time drying his hair and putting on his clothes. If she was willing to dance with his that probably mean that she had a chance with him, right? But, there was the fraternization law.
'Since when has Roy Mustang followed the rules?' he asked himself.
But there was the fact that he would be discharged, if lucky demoted. Was a woman worth the future of a whole country?
‘Well, this one is!’ he argued, answering his question. His heart definitely had this battle won. He walked out of the bathroom in an all too casual manner, eve though he only had on boxers and a button up shirt. It was awkward being there, so he just took a seat on her couch.
“Are you decent sir?”
“Err, yes,” he answered, not sure whether a pair of boxers and a shirt was decent or not.
As she walked in, her face gave the exact same thoughts. She hesitated as she handed him his cup. She then, gingerly sat down on the opposite side of the couch, as if determined not to get any closer to him. It was a strange seating arrangement.
“So Lieutenant,” he echoed.
It was unbelievably embarrassing and not to mention awkward as he sat there, trying not to face her. Why did he have to make his feelings towards her so obvious?
“Uh, here sir,” she held out a bunch of blankets and a pillow in his direction. An open invite. Or was it out of respect? She wasn’t going to send him out in the rain again after all.
“Can I ask you a question? I mean don’t take this the wrong way or anything.”
She looked at him with a little bit of anxiety in her eyes.
“Do you have any of my t-shirts?” he asked.
He heard her sigh, then answer: “Yes, I think I do sir.”
She went into her bedroom, and then a few seconds later threw at him a t-shirt.
“Where do you want to sleep ”
“Where do I want to, wait, what!”
“I’m not going to send you out in the rain again am I?” she asked, “I mean it’s not like you could make a fire, because your alchemy is useless in the rain,” she taunted, accentuating fire, useless, and rain.
“Right. Thanks for the reminder Lieutenant,” he said through gritted teeth.
“So sir, your lodgings are of two choices, on the couch out here. Or, on the floor in there,” she announced pointing at the bedroom door.
“I mean I’m not going to limit you to anywhere. You can sleep in the kitchen for all I care.”
“I think I’ll sleep in there.”
“On the floor.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Your bed looks pretty big, and we wouldn’t want to waste all that,”
She shot him a death glare.
“- big room on the floor right?” he said, eyeing her gun.
“Right sir,” she agreed.
He trailed behind her and made a bed on the floor.
“The floor seems really cold,” he pressed again.
“The couch is way warmer,” she bribed, feeling the same emptiness and chill in her bed.
He scowled and laid down in his makeshift sleeping quarters. He was using a pillow with dogs embroidered all over it. It was really cold on the floor and he chattered a little as he tried to get accustomed to the temperature. He had a strong temptation to leap into bed with her. It seemed more like a suicide attempt to leap into bed with his Lieutenant when she was awake, than an attempt to make love, so he stalled. After an hour or so, he cautiously got up and tried to crawl into bed beside her. He was indeed ginger about it. He slowly moved, wincing at every squeak the bed made. He held his breath whenever Riza stirred. He was successful at making it next to her.
Next he laid down. At first he just laid there like a rock. Sudden a hand came onto his chest and a head on his shoulder. He took the chance to wrap his arms around her. He finally started to warm up, to feel whole.
A sleepy voice said in the silence, “Roy?”
“What are you doing in my bed?” she asked only half awake.
“I was cold.”
She didn’t say anything. Instead, she nestled closer to him and buried her face into his shirt. He then wrapped his arms around her body tighter. He smiled. So this meant that she didn’t totally hate him. It meant he had a chance with her, right?
He promised that from now on he would worship the rain. Okay, maybe not worship, but he would celebrate every time it rained.
Not too random, or rough, Right? I should go on, right?