Chapter Text
Riza has been working on the unit for close to a year when she starts to wonder whether Colonel Mustang’s interest in her is more than professional.
It’s a tricky question. Her position as his adjutant and bodyguard shows a level of trust between them that is as personal as it is professional. Personal connections and relationships should have no room in the military - but at the same time, of course their relationship is more than professional. That is inevitable. They have known one another since they were teenagers; even spent three years living together while he had been her father’s apprentice. Roy had been her closest friend, then, back when he was just Roy.
They had gone to New Year’s celebrations in town together. Roy had taught her how to dance, she had taught him how to cook, and they had a little book club together when neither were occupied with their studies. Years later, she had entrusted him with the secrets of her father’s alchemy, and he had inspired her to enlist in the military academy. They served together in Ishval. Neither of them has forgotten any of that long history. How could they?
They keep to the appropriate boundaries regardless. Riza only ever refers to him as Colonel Mustang, and he follows her lead. Their working relationship as colonel and adjutant necessitates that they are close, even more so than the other members of the unit. Falman, Breda, Fuery, and Havoc all operate independently or in small groups as their operations demand, but she is almost always by Colonel Mustang’s side. All day, every day. Often into the evenings as well. And lately, Riza has been wondering whether Colonel Mustang has been taking advantage of that fact.
The first reason for her suspicion is that working together after hours happens more than it should. Colonel Mustang works at a snail’s pace during the day, but when the clock strikes six in the evening and everyone else leaves headquarters, he is a man transformed. Suddenly sharp, alert, working with alacrity on a dozen different tasks - and needing her help on every one of them.
“I finished the Hielscher case report. Do you have the preliminary reports about the developing situation in Limeton for me to review?” he asks her, one evening in early October, as she enters their office. “Also, has there been any progress in finding soldiers to testify in the Schwartz court martial case?”
“Yes, and yes,” Riza replies, unloading an armful of paperwork onto his desk. “I’m glad you finished the case report, though I will say that could have easily been done this morning between your meetings.” ”
Colonel Mustang leans back in his chair and stretches, sighing with satisfaction. “You know I do my best work at night, Lieutenant.”
Riza ignores the joke, taking the completed case report off his desk and looking through it. It had been completed in painstaking detail. “How long are you planning on maintaining this farce of incompetence during regular work hours, Colonel? Surely others must have seen through it by now, considering the quality of work you actually produce and your accomplishments.”
“They assume that I simply take credit for the work you and everyone else on the team do,” he replies happily. “And now,” - he picks up the phone and looks expectantly at her. “May I interest you in dinner?”
Riza eats dinner with him at least a few days a week, takeout in the office. These long days are exhausting, but Colonel Mustang doesn’t seem to mind. He actually seems oddly cheerful on the evenings they work late together - upbeat and chipper, sometimes whistling to himself as he works.
Every night, he helps her put her coat on, and Riza wonders whether she imagines his fingers lingering on her shoulders. He drives her home, even though she insists that she can walk; that it will be good to get some fresh air after being cooped up in the office all day.
Riza takes Hayate out for his twice-daily walk afterwards. And even though she should savor her short twelve hours away from work and Colonel Mustang, she can’t get him and his odd behavior out of her mind.
-
Their unit goes out for drinks and dinner every other Friday after work at Blomgren’s, the bar at the end of the street, and Rebecca often joins them. It’s been a year and a half since Ishval, but the memories still weigh heavy in Riza’s mind. These Friday nights, and her quiet weekends with Hayate and Rebecca, are a welcome escape. She doesn’t deserve this respite, not after everything she had done in Ishval, but she still guiltily enjoys shedding her uniform in favor of civilian clothes, even swapping out her earrings to something a little more fun and a little less professional.
Every other Friday, when the unit piles into a booth, Colonel Mustang always ends up by her side. There’s so little space that despite Riza’s attempts to keep a respectful distance, they end up pressed together from hip to knee, shoulder to wrist. She can feel the material of his clothes and the warmth of the skin underneath, the strength of him, pressed against the stretches of skin on her legs and arms revealed by her skirt and sleeveless blouse.
Colonel Mustang laughs and jokes with everybody and seems completely unfazed by their proximity. Like he doesn’t even notice it, despite the fact that they seem to end up in a position like this every time they go out with the team.
Riza sips her drink, trying to focus on her friends’ conversation, but she can’t help but speculate. Her thoughts turn in the predictable ways they have been doing lately. The late nights, the proximity. The way Colonel Mustang always seems to glance at her first after he makes another one of his jokes or witty comments.
Across from her, Rebecca directs a subtle look at her and raises an eyebrow, nodding along to Falman’s story about his landlord from hell.
Riza lifts a shoulder a fraction of an inch.
He’s definitely doing this on purpose, Riza.
Honestly, I have no idea.
Rebecca gives her a flatly skeptical expression so blatant that Riza has to cough to remind her of the code.
Colonel Mustang offers to drive them home afterward, since he’s giving everyone else a ride anyway. “We’ll walk,” Riza says, and she offers her team a small smile. “Rebecca’s staying the night at my place. Besides, I need some intelligent conversation after spending the last twelve hours with you all.”
She and Rebecca wave them off and head in the direction of her apartment. “Okay,” Rebecca declares, the second Colonel Mustang’s car disappears around the corner. “What the hell is going on with you two?”
Riza covers her face with her hand. It feels warm. “Nothing’s going on,” she says.
“Nothing’s going on?” Rebecca asks incredulously. “He asks you to work late with him every single week. Sometimes more than once a week.”
“We do work,” Riza insists. “There’s nothing salacious happening in the office, I promise you."
"I bet you wish there was," Rebecca mutters, and dodges the elbow Riza sends her way. “And tonight--”
“We sat next to each other, like you and Havoc did.”
Rebecca snorts. “Havoc doesn’t mysteriously appear by my side every time we’re about to sit down. He doesn’t buy all of my drinks. He doesn’t check me out when he thinks nobody is watching, and he doesn’t smirk like a cat that got into the cream when I smile at his smartass jokes.”
Riza tilts her face up, grateful for the cool night breeze on her flushed skin. “When you say it like that...”
Rebecca looks at her curiously. “Why do you sound so disappointed?” she asks. “You told me about the way you felt about Mustang, growing up. You should be jumping for joy that he’s clearly interested in you. Don’t you want to be with him now?”
Riza keeps her eyes straight ahead. “My wants have no place in this.”
“Don’t give me that, Ri.”
Riza sighs. “There’s just no place for it, Rebecca. It could have happened when we were teenagers, before he joined the military, or if I hadn’t enlisted. But now he’s my commanding officer. There’s the anti-fraternization regulations. And we’re working towards things that are more important than any petty, personal wants or desires. Nothing can stand in the way of that.”
“Sure,” Rebecca says, sounding unconvinced.
“Enough about me.” Riza nudges her. “What happened on your date with Rikert? Were you able to get over that mustache?”
“It’s funny you ask…”
-
Riza tries extra hard to maintain professional boundaries with Colonel Mustang after that. She skips Friday night team dinners twice in a row. She refuses to let herself think about him at all after work hours (especially at night, in bed). She redirects herself to mentally disassembling and reassembling different models of guns whenever she catches herself admiring anything about his personality in a way that strays too far from the platonic admiration and devotion their entire team has for him.
“Can Catalina or anyone else on the team look after Hayate this weekend?” Colonel Mustang asks casually, driving her home one Tuesday after a late night at the office. “I’d like you to accompany me on an undercover mission to Maastritcht. There’s an information broker there that I’d prefer to meet in person.”
Riza glances at him out of the corner of her eye. She opens her mouth and then closes it, reconsidering her instinctive denial. Damn him. As his bodyguard, she can’t refuse to go with him, or suggest another member of the team step in for her on this assignment. Colonel Mustang keeps his eyes on the road ahead, his demeanor casual, but she is sure he knows that as well as she does.
“Rebecca’s visiting her parents this weekend, but Havoc will be able to watch Hayate,” she says shortly, glancing out of the window, taking in the yellow light from the streetlamps as they pool on the dark roads. “Do you think this is a good idea, sir?”
“Of course it is,” Colonel Mustang replies blithely. “I really should meet this man in person. Not everyone is as adept at speaking in code over the telephone as we are.”
Riza takes a deep breath, willing herself to be patient. If this was any other man, she’d snap at him to cut the crap. “That’s not what I mean, sir.”
“Oh?” They come to a stop in front of her apartment, and Colonel Mustang parks the car and turns to look at her. “What do you mean, then?”
There is a challenge in his eyes, and Riza suddenly feels exhausted. She can’t have this discussion, this fight, now. She has already had it with herself too often, and she can’t face it with him now. Roy (back when he was just Roy) always knew what to say to push her buttons, crack through her stoic facade, out-logic her logic. “Nothing, sir,” she says, leaning over and grabbing her bag from the floor beneath her. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
“Good night, Lieutenant.”
-
Riza leaves work on Friday, collects her things and Hayate, and drops her smallest friend off at Havoc’s apartment. Jean is in high spirits, crowing about how hanging around the park with such a cute pup will definitely help him collect a lot of phone numbers from the ladies.
“I know he’ll be in good hands with you,” Riza says, giving Hayate a scratch behind the ears. “But no ice cream for him this time, okay? Now he begs for it shamelessly whenever Rebecca and I stop for a cone.”
“We’ll see what happens,” Havoc grins. “And hey, you and the Colonel be safe up there in Maastritcht, all right?”
Riza nods. “Of course. We’ll be back late Sunday night.”
“I’d say you know you can call us if you need backup, but I know that the Colonel won’t need backup since he’s with you.”
Riza smiles and bids them farewell. As she departs, she spares a moment for gratitude that nobody on the team is at all questioning of the closeness that she and Colonel Mustang share. Not a single one of them has ever made any sort of comment, question, or innuendo about their relationship or the amount of time that they spend together. Colonel Mustang really had picked not just the best soldiers, but the best men, to serve on his team.
She stops in at a deserted public restroom near the train station and assumes her disguise. A colorful scarf wrapped loosely around her head, hiding the distinctive haircut, and long, dangling earrings. Glasses. A suede skirt, cream-colored sweater, dark tights and coat, and boots that come up to her knees. She looks different enough from Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye in her blue military uniform, and not as different as she’d like from Riza Hawkeye in her civilian clothes. Undercover operations are the only time she wishes that she were an alchemist. Changing her hair color and length would be a blessing.
Riza finds Colonel Mustang at the train station, at Gate C15, just as they had discussed earlier. There’s only a few other people at the gate. Two elderly ladies and a middle-aged man in a battered jacket, frowning at a newspaper. Riza glances them over quickly, discreetly, assessing and analyzing. She judges their clothing and possessions for the ability to conceal hidden weapons, their body language, facial expressions, demeanor, physical fitness for combat.They aren’t spies, she determines after a moment, and her shoulders relax somewhat.
Colonel Mustang smiles slightly at her reaction as she approaches. Of course he had noticed her risk assessment. He has pointed out to her before, in a way both teasing and admiring, about how she does that every single time she enters a space, whether it’s a train station, a park, or a cafe. He is dressed in civilian clothes, like her.
“You look nice, Elizabeth,” he greets, stepping close and pressing a kiss to her cheek, as any lover would do.
Riza rests a hand on his chest, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. Spice and citrus, as familiar to her as the scent of her firearm polish. “You as well, Rhys.”
They have played this a few times before. It feels different now, after the undercurrents that have swirled around and between them for the past several weeks. At least, it does to her.
Colonel Mustang steps back, though he’s still rather close to her. “Ready for this weekend?” he asks, and then grins. “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”
“Oh, I’m sure you have,” Riza replies dryly. “Remind me when and where we’re meeting our friend tomorrow?”
“Noon, for a walk in Arnsberg Park.” Colonel Mustang glances at her out of the corner of his eye. “I’m hoping that Russell then introduces us to that other friend of his I mentioned. We’ll encourage him to do so, anyway.”
Arnsberg Park… It hadn’t been her first choice for a meeting location. Too open and insecure. Countless opportunities for this Russell person to hide his colleagues in the forested area around the park and attempt to ambush them. To reassure herself, Riza immediately catalogues the weaponry she had brought along. 1873 Buntline Target in her purse, Akdal Ghost TR-01 and Alfa-Proj Model 3520 in her bag, knife in her left boot, Colt Detective Special in her right.
Colonel Mustang bursts out laughing. “I think the encouragement won’t involve what you have in mind, Elizabeth.”
Riza feels her face warm slightly. “How did you know?”
Colonel Mustang taps his forehead. “Oh, you get this dreamy, faraway look in your eyes when you think about your favorite things,” he says. “Just like a woman in love.”
“Similar to the look you get when you’re supposed to be working, but you’re thinking about going out drinking with Colonel Hughes and then toilet-papering senior leaderships’ houses afterwards?”
“...Yes.”
Riza sighs. “It’s going to be a long weekend.”
“Really, Elizabeth,” Colonel Mustang sniffs. “It’ll be the most fun we’ve had in a long while. I promise you that.”
-
The train ride to Maastritcht takes them two and a half hours north. Riza reads a novel, the latest in The Cases of Eddie Drake series. Breda had lent her the first book in the series last year, and she had read the next six in a matter of months. Colonel Mustang sits beside her and reads over her shoulder, claiming that he can’t work in a moving train because it gives him motion sickness. ( "Rhys, that is obviously a lie. You’re reading right now.”)
It is dark and snowing when they disembark. Thankfully, the snow isn’t as heavy nor is the air as cold as it is in Briggs. Maastritcht is a truly tiny town that reminds Riza of where she had grown up. She looks around, committing the streets and shops around them to memory, forming a mental map. She is so preoccupied that she doesn’t notice Colonel Mustang take her arm at first.
Riza glances up at him. “You’re restricting my movement in case of an emergency, Rhys.”
The colonel scoffs. “As if you wouldn’t be able to shake me off and arm yourself in an instant. Besides…” He gestures to the empty streets. “I think chances are low that there will be an emergency.”
Riza doesn’t shrug him off. His warmth is welcome on this cold night. And it feels good to be walking with him like this. For a little while, she can pretend. They can pretend.
For the first time, she divorces herself from her discomfort at this situation and thinks of it through Colonel Mustang’s - Roy’s - eyes. If he does have feelings for her… To content himself with takeout dinners while working late, the contact of sitting close to one another in a crowded booth while out to dinner with their colleagues, the brief moments of intimacy while on an undercover mission…
These must be small, hollow comforts for him. Scraps, to someone who longs for a meal. Despite the confusion and frustration she’s felt over the last several weeks, her heart goes out to him.
Riza holds his arm a little tighter, ignoring the voice in her head that warns her that she is playing a dangerous game.
They reach their inn a little while later. It is small and plain and smells faintly of cabbage. Still, Riza breathes a sigh of relief at being inside from the cold, blowing on her hands to warm them as Colonel Mustang picks up the key to their upstairs room from the front desk.
“I hope it’s warmer in our room,” he says. “I know that we’re quite far north, but this is unseasonably cold.”
“At least it’s not as bad as Briggs.”
“Of course it’s not, since General Armstrong isn’t here.” Colonel Mustang shudders. “That terrifying woman… I’m so glad our Major Armstrong has a more amiable personality.”
“I think she’s an inspiring leader,” Riza defends. “And she gave me a few valuable lessons in hand-to-hand combat.”
Colonel Mustang opens the door to their room and flicks on the light, and Riza trails off as they enter. The tiny size of the room doesn’t give her pause, or the threadbare covers and rug. The single bed does.
“Oh,” Colonel Mustang says, lost for words for once in his life, as he shuts the door behind them. “Well, I can sleep on the floor.”
“Nonsense,” Riza says briskly, recovering. “You’re my commanding officer. I’m happy to give the bed to you.”
“That wouldn’t be chivalrous of me at all.” The colonel shrugs off his coat and drops his bag to the ground, placing the room keys on the battered nightstand beside the door. “I suppose we’ll have to share, then.”
Riza can’t help but shoot a suspicious glance his way, and Colonel Mustang raises his hands as if to defend himself. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, Elizabeth.”
“The things I would do to you, if they wouldn’t be considered insubordination…” Riza mutters.
Colonel Mustang grins, and Riza has to shove her hands into her pockets to keep from punching him in the arm. “You know what I meant!”
“Regrettably, I do.” Colonel Mustang rolls his eyes. “Every now and then when I do dishes, I still remember you splashing the dirty dishwater at me as retaliation for making some bad joke or another.”
“You deserved it. Every time. And you still do.”
They should wash up and go to bed. They’re on an assignment for work, after all. Besides, she should take Colonel Mustang to the park well before their noon meeting time to scope it out. Instead Riza sits down beside him on the bed, and they reminisce until he falls asleep, leaning back against the headboard, fully clothed.
Riza eases him down into a more comfortable position, one hand on his shoulder, the other on his back, and draws the comforter around him. It’s all so intimate, but this isn’t the first time that she’s tucked Colonel Mustang into bed. This is, however, the first time he’s been sober.
She looks down at him. He frowns in his sleep as he usually does, lines appearing on his forehead. Riza reaches down and smooths them away, a feather-light touch. She remembers herself, then, and jerks back, as if burned.
She gets ready for bed as quietly as possible and lies down with her back to Colonel Mustang, her hands pressed underneath her pillow. Even though she is exhausted, even though her work day had started seventeen hours ago, it takes an eternity for her to fall asleep.
-
The operation the next day goes flawlessly. Russell is an excellent information broker, and he introduces them to one of his colleagues. Best of all, the two of them seem trustworthy enough, and nothing untoward happens.
After the meeting, both of them return to their room in the inn. They sit down on the bed, facing one another, and begin to work.
Riza prefers exact transcriptions of conversations, as they are valuable to review after the fact and spot inconsistencies or untruths, while Colonel Mustang prefers detailed summaries. Honed after years of practice and lessons with Falman, Riza’s memory allows her to more or less transcribe the entire conversation. She does so, reciting the words softly to herself as she writes fast, in the secret shorthand their unit had developed. As she talks, he summarizes, adding notes and action items for when they return to East City and next time work takes them to Central.
Though she’s no stranger to this kind of work, by the time they’re finished, Riza’s mouth is dry and her hands ache. She massages her writing hand. “Done,” she says.
“We’ll have a lot of interesting leads to pursue next time we’re in Central,” Colonel Mustang replies. His gaze lingers on her hands. “Have I overworked you, Elizabeth?”
“Never. Though I wouldn’t turn down something to drink.”
Colonel Mustang stands and offers her a hand. “I’ll do you one better and get dinner for us.”
Night had fallen while they had been at work, but at least the bar is just a couple of streets away. It’s small, dimly lit, smoky, and crowded, though they find a small booth at the back. Riza is torn, as she always is in a crowded area. More people means more potential threats to assess. But the many intermingling conversations and raised voices around them, and the music playing from a gramophone nearby, ensures privacy and the ability to speak without being overheard, within reason.
She leans back into the booth, looking around at their surroundings, identifying potential emergency exits, until Colonel Mustang arrives. He holds a couple of beers and their food, having some difficulty balancing it all. “Sorry, they didn’t have your preferred drinks,” he says, setting the items down on the table and sliding in beside her. “But I thought this would make up for it.”
Riza brightens, leaning over their food and taking a deep breath in. They hadn’t had lunch due to the noon meeting with the broker, and she hadn’t realized how hungry she was until now. “Chicken pot pie,” she says. “Just like we used to do for New Year’s.”
“I know we’re a couple of months early,” Colonel Mustang says, passing her a fork. “But it seemed appropriate, considering our conversation yesterday.”
“It’s perfect.”
They dig into the pie, and when it’s finished, Colonel Mustang raises his glass to her. “To a successful weekend away,” he says, giving her the smile that always makes her melt. “Thank you for accompanying me, Elizabeth. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
“It’s my pleasure, Rhys.” Riza clinks her glass against his, and curses herself for the could-be-construed-as-flirtatious reply. This is why she hates going undercover with him.
She expects some sort of smart comment from him in reply. Instead, Colonel Mustang takes a long draft of his beer, and sets the glass down on the splintering table somewhat harder than necessary. “I went on a date last weekend,” he says, staring down into the glass.
“I know,” Riza replies, slightly thrown by the non sequitur. “You came over to my place afterwards and insisted that I help you with the notes.” He had brought her food, too - an extra steak and salad, and piece of tiramisu, from the restaurant where he and Camilla had met.
“Yeah.” Colonel Mustang runs a hand through his hair. “I focused as best as I could. It was basically a work meeting, after all. But there was this one moment, where I was distracted - and I realized I hadn’t been on a real date in years. Not since before Ishval.”
Riza nods. “It’s been the same for me,” she confesses, and Colonel Mustang looks at her out of the corner of his eye. She has the feeling that he’s surprised, but pleased, to hear it.
“There’s just no time,” he says.
“Yes,” Riza agrees, guarded. “There’s no time for it at all.”
“Besides, it wouldn’t feel right.” Colonel Mustang takes a deep breath, and turns to face her.
“Sir,” Riza whispers, slipping out of their cover, hoping the reminder of her station and his will be enough to derail him. Her shoulders tense. “Please don’t.”
“Getting to know someone,” Colonel Mustang begins, ignoring her. “Is like learning a new language, or starting out on a long journey. Don’t you think so? There’s so much to learn about them. There’s so much they have to learn about you.”
“Rhys--”
“I think of starting from the beginning, with someone, and it doesn’t feel right,” he says. There’s a slightly pained look on his face. “Not when there’s someone who already knows me so well, that I know so well. Someone I can read just by looking into her eyes. Noticing the way she’s standing or the expression on her face.”
“You have to,” Riza says, in a hushed voice.
“I can’t,” Colonel Mustang says tersely. “How could I try to form another relationship with a clear conscience, when I compare every woman to you, and find them lacking in every way?”
Riza swallows over her dry throat, suddenly lost for words. He takes advantage of that, and places his hand on hers - her fingers tightly interlaced in front of her - and she almost jumps. “Your intelligence, skill, compassion, empathy, loyalty, devotion,” Colonel Mustang continues quietly, and a fraction of a smile touches his lips. “Your looks. Damn it, Elizabeth, I trust you with my life, to always look out for me, and I know you have the same trust in me. How is anybody else supposed to compete with that?”
Riza pulls her hands away. “Find a way,” she says, blinking away angry tears. Damn him for doing this to her, for putting both of them in this position.
“The reason I’ve been so bold with you is because I believe you share my feelings. Do you?” he presses. “If you don’t, I’ll never say a word about this again. We’ll pretend it never happened.”
She should lie, but she’s never been able to lie to him. Besides, lying goes against their code of conduct with one another. “Yes,” Riza whispers bitterly. “I do.”
Colonel Mustang studies her with that intense, unblinking stare he fixes on problems that must be solved. “Then can you tell me, honestly, that you believe what you were just saying earlier? That you’d be completely unaffected by another woman being as important a part of my life as you are?”
Riza averts her eyes, refusing to answer. Colonel Mustang sighs. “I know that I would loathe it, if I had a rival for your time, attention, emotions… Just the thought actually drives me insane.”
Riza tilts her head back, willing the tears to stop welling in her eyes. She had dreamed of Roy confessing his feelings to her for a good part of her teenage years. This is coming years too late.
“It doesn’t matter,” she snaps, re-focusing on the present. “Whatever we feel for each other. The anti-fraternization law prevents us from becoming involved on any level more than the professional. Even more so because you’re my commanding officer - you’d be court-martialed and I’d be dishonorably discharged.”
“Yes,” Colonel Mustang says. “If we’re caught.”
Riza stares at him, aghast. “You’re not saying…”
He leans back against the booth, trying to affect his usual, casual posture, but she can see how tense his shoulders are, the white in his knuckles as he grips his glass. “I am,” he replies.
Riza shakes her head. “The consequences are too severe. They would shatter the goal we’ve committed ourselves to.”
Colonel Mustang actually smirks a little. “Then we just have to avoid getting caught, don’t we?”
“I can’t believe you’re being so cavalier about this, sir,” Riza hisses, her voice barely audible over the music still playing and the conversations around them.
The levity fades from the colonel’s expression. “If you knew how many hours, how many sleepless nights, I’ve spent thinking about this, you wouldn’t throw such an unjust accusation at me.”
They stare at each other, at an impasse. “I won’t settle for less than you,” Colonel Mustang says softly, finally. “I refuse to. And you and I are going to be by one another’s sides for the long term. Years. Decades. We can’t keep dancing around this and contenting ourselves with half measures. Neither of us will be truly happy. And neither of us will be truly happy with someone else.”
“That’s part of the reason why I’m so concerned,” Riza murmurs. “I’ve committed to serve by your side until you reach your goal--”
“And after I’ve attained it.”
“It could take years, or decades, as you’ve said.” Riza pauses. “If we begin--” she whispers, almost shuddering at how tawdry it sounds, how unlike her, “--an affair, and it ends, especially if it ends poorly - that jeopardizes the working relationship that is so precious to us, that we value so much.”
“Ah, Elizabeth.” To her surprise, Colonel Mustang - Roy, there’s no point in continuing to think of him only as Colonel Mustang now that he’s smashed the barriers she had put up so thoroughly - smiles tenderly at her. “I don’t think we have to worry about that.”
It takes her a moment to catch his meaning, and when she does, she blushes. “You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“Well, yes. Have you met me?” Roy puts his hand on hers again. This time, Riza can’t bring herself to pull away. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he says quietly. “No matter what you may think, I haven’t deluded myself about any of this. There will be a lot that we have to worry about. It will be very difficult. It won’t look like a normal relationship. But that is one thing you don’t have to be concerned about.”
Riza stares at their hands on the table, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what has happened tonight. Her insides literally ache with turmoil. Don’t, every sensible part of her is screaming. It’s her job to keep Roy out of trouble, after all. He might be hurt if she turns him down now, but it will be for the best.
If they go through with this, it will be a terrible and unnecessary complication in her life. In both of their lives. It is just asking for disaster. It’s unprofessional. She had been the most accomplished student in her year at the academy; she’s the best sniper in the country. She is not the kind of officer that screws her commander.
Riza closes her eyes, feeling the weight of Roy’s eyes on her, trying to block out the rest of the distractions and stimulation around her.
It’s the lyrics coming through the gramophone that crumble her resolve, longing and plaintive, a repeated refrain, if you were mine--
Riza opens her eyes, takes Roy by the lapels of his coat, pulls him close, and kisses him.
They had shared kisses every New Year, when she had been fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen. Every year, they would walk into town to attend the celebration and watch the fireworks. She still remembers it like it was yesterday; that first year, standing in the crowd, suddenly surrounded by laughing children and kissing couples.
I guess it’s some kind of tradition.
For good luck, Roy had replied, and before she could react, he leaned in and kissed her.
They never kissed again, or talked about it, until the next year’s celebrations. The same was true in the year after that. Every kiss had been a little longer than the year before. There was the unspoken understanding between them that it was inappropriate. Her father would have been enraged if he found out, and would have ended Roy’s apprenticeship. Even back then, though, when she knew so little and had just been an inexperienced girl, it felt right. Natural. Perfect, for all of those few, fleeting moments. She had never wanted it to stop.
It feels just as right now, but different.
Instead of holding back, Roy makes a small, involuntary sound against her lips and reaches out, running his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head in his hand, and the touch makes Riza shiver. He kisses her hard, hungrily, like he’s finally getting something he had been starved of. She unclasps her hands from his coat, flattening her palms and running them up to his shoulders. It feels surreal, to be touching him like this, to feel the warmth of his mouth on hers, the strength of his shoulders underneath her hands. It feels amazing and surreal that it is happening in real life, after all the countless times she’s spent dreaming about it.
Riza presses her hands against his chest, gently pushing him back. “I think we should leave,” she says quietly, in response to the question in his eyes.
Roy smiles at her. “You’re always full of good ideas, Elizabeth.”
They leave the bar hand-in-hand, and it feels so good to do that openly. Riza has no illusions that this can never happen when they’re back home and back to their normal lives. She savors the warmth of Roy’s hand in hers.
It’s snowing hard outside, the snowflakes powdering their coats within moments, standing out sharply against Roy’s dark hair. He looks at her, and then actually stops in the middle of the road, cups her face in both of his hands, and kisses her again.
“What was that for?” Riza asks, breathless, when they emerge from the embrace.
“Do I need a reason?”
“Yes. We shouldn’t be so frivolous.”
Roy laughs at her straight-faced retort. “It doesn’t snow in East City or Central,” he points out. “And we don’t go to Briggs often. I figured I should kiss you in the snow while we have the chance.”
Riza sighs, but she can’t keep the smile off her face. “You’re such a romantic.”
They stop every half block to steal kisses. Briefly, they stumble into an alleyway, Riza’s hands firm as she pushes him against the stone wall. They dart back out just as quickly when a fox trots from the depths of the alley, emanating a series of disturbing, shrieking calls, which makes Roy yelp and jump half into Riza’s arms.
The inn’s front desk is empty. After looking back and forth to see if there is anyone else in the vicinity, Roy sweeps her up into his arms.
“Do you see a fox?” Riza asks, nudging him in the side. “You know, I can still walk.”
Roy frowns down at her with mock seriousness. “I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a long time--”
Riza feels a momentary thrill at the fact that she hadn’t been the only one who has wanted this for so long. “Undoubtedly, while you were supposed to be working.”
“Irrelevant,” Roy says nonchalantly. “Now, my dear Elizabeth, let me live out the fantasy properly.”
“As you wish, Rhys.”
Roy carries her back to their room, unlocks the door, and Riza kisses him as he gently sets her back on her feet. She feels a vague sensation of surprise that she isn’t nervous at all, even though she’s never done this before. And she isn’t nervous about tomorrow morning. There is no fear of awkwardness, of things between them being ruined. She trusts him, them, with that, with the same certainty that they trust each other with everything.
“Riza,” Roy murmurs, sliding her coat off, caressing the curve of her waist, her hips. But it’s the sound of her name on his lips that makes her gasp. “No titles. No cover names. Not here. Please.”
“Roy,” Riza whispers, testing it out on her lips, and in her mind. The lines, the boundaries, were already blurred. After tonight, they will be broken beyond repair.
She locks the door with a soft click.
-
When you guys eventually hook up, are you afraid that it won’t live up to your expectations?
That will never happen, Rebecca.
Okay, fine. If you guys ever hook up, are you afraid that it won’t live up to your expectations? Since you’ve wanted it for so long?
...I’ve never thought about that.
You know, I can tell when you’re lying to me.
I wasn’t lying. I meant that I never even considered that it wouldn’t be what I imagined.
Oh, Riza. You’ve got it so bad.
-
Sex feels just as right as having Roy’s back, as working with him, as kissing him. In so many ways, the course of her life has shifted in parallel to his. Growing up, she had always assumed she would become a teacher, but then she had enlisted in the military academy because of his vision of protecting the people of Amestris as a soldier. Continued serving after the horror of Ishval because of him. Working by his side has shaped her entire professional career and adult life.
The famous Hawk’s Eye. I heard you’ve turned down two promotions in favor of staying on Mustang’s team, General Armstrong said, when they had met, looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Such devotion.
It feels natural to share this with him, as well.
-
They linger over breakfast the next morning at Maastricht’s sole, small cafe. Roy holds her hand the entire time. Both of them have to eat their eggs and bacon one-handed, which is ridiculous, but Riza doesn’t complain. They look into each other’s eyes and neither of them has to say that this kind of openness won’t, can’t, happen again.
to be continued
Any comments or thoughts would be very much appreciated. :)