Chapter Text
A – Active - adjective – involving physical effort and action
The office door unlocks easily, and Riza Hawkeye steps in to an empty room. It’s only a little after seven hundred hours on a Monday morning, of course no-one’s here, she thinks to herself. It’s even a tad early by Riza’s standards, but the early morning summer sun split through her thin bedroom curtains just after five hundred hours and Black Hayate had decided it was wake-up time. She couldn’t blame him; it was a beautiful morning.
With this in mind, Riza had decided to walk to Eastern Command with Black Hayate in tow. It took a bit longer than her usual drive, of course, but she had time to spare and Riza relished the feeling of the early morning sunshine on her face. This was how she came to be at the office so early, and was grateful for the peace and quiet.
Riza set down her handbag and steaming coffee cup on her desk, before telling Hayate to ‘stay’ and going to unlock a filing cupboard to the far end of the room. She knew that Colonel Mustang would ask for these particular files today and Riza figured she might as well get started. While sifting through the many files within the drawer, something caught her eye out of the window to the right of her.
The office was only two storeys up, and looked out on to Eastern Command’s training ground. There were men running round the gravel track, and a familiar mop of jet-black hair caught her eye. Riza instinctively looked behind her to ensure nobody would catch her ogling her superior officer. Satisfied she was alone, Riza turned back to look out the window. Colonel Mustang had taken to being more active recently, and, well, Riza had noticed. It’s not that he needed to firm up, he had always been a pinnacle of fitness for as long as she’d known him, but the Colonel takes a fancy for certain things now and again, and this time it was a healthier way of life instead of spending nearly every night at the local bar.
She noticed the way the muscles in his back appeared more defined, as he often removed his uniform jacket whenever he complained it was ‘too damn hot’ in this office, and ‘why have windows if you can’t even open them!’. Then, as if to tease her even more, he would roll up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, and, good god, it was then Riza remembered she had a thing for men with toned arms… And then his hands were- no. Stop it.
Riza would sit quietly and give herself a stern talking to, while trying to regulate her breathing, and squeezing her thighs together in a futile attempt to stop herself thinking, feeling, things.
Things she should definitely, one hundred percent, should not be feeling about her commanding officer.
Riza sighed inwardly, back in the present moment. She should really stop looking. He was about to make a curve round the top end of the oval track, making it look so easy in his navy-blue military issue t-shirt, black running shorts, and white sports shoes. The other men tried to keep up with him, but Roy appeared to be in his own world and took no notice of them, jogging along at a fast pace and seemingly building up a sweat. Even in this early morning light, Riza could see that the men running looked as though they were exercising in midday heat.
Roy started to slow his pace to a slow jog before he eventually stopped completely next to a bench with towels and bottles of water upon it. Riza could see that he was beathing heavily, hands on his hips, trying to cool down while his shirt stuck to him like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. She really needed to stop staring, and yet she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the exquisite display of masculine physique. Yes, that sounded so much better than eyeing up your commanding officer. Riza almost laughed at herself. The running track wasn’t far away from where she was stood, anyone could look up and see her standing there. Recklessness and Riza Hawkeye do not normally go together.
Just then, as she was about to turn and continue her actual task, Roy reached down for water, making hasty work of the bottle top and taking a large gulp, as if he’d never had water before. She then saw the cogs turning in his head as he stopped, something she’s grown accustomed to noticing, before he proceeds to pour the entire contents of the bottle over his head.
If Riza wasn’t flustered before, she was now.
Riza wondered if anyone else was witnessing this. She secretly hoped not as she let out a hot breath she hadn’t realised she was holding, and willed herself to look away. The scene before her was like something from a racy magazine. The water soaked his hair, his face, his upper body, and continued dripping down, and her eyes surely followed. It was, no, he, was breath-taking. Riza was only punishing herself by doing this, she knew that much.
The Colonel discarded the bottle in favor of a towel, picking it up and rubbing it over his head in an attempt to soak up some of the water. He pulled the towel back over his head, leaving his hair slicked back in the way he sometimes styles it. Riza prefers it that way, but she could never tell him that. Finally, he rubs his eyes for any trace of excess water and looks up, unknowingly, in her direction. Before Riza has the chance to think, his eyes focus and a sharp smirk adorns his face.
Shit, shit shit!
She does a swift 90 degree left turn back to what she was supposed to be doing, pretending that she didn’t see him acknowledging her. Riza looks out of the corner of her eye back down at the track where her Colonel is still stood looking up at her, he obviously knows, because he raises his right hand to his head in a kind of quick, smug, salute to her. That damned, handsome smirk. She had been caught.
Riza closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to focus once again on this damned filing cabinet. She knew then that her Colonel was going to enjoy every minute of this, and she’d never hear the last of it.