Chapter Text
Sheska tiptoed down the hallway, quiet as a mouse.
“Sheska!” someone placed a hand on her shoulder and the poor girl shrieked, wheeling around.
“U-uhm good morning Lieutenant!” she stammered, sweat pouring down her forehead.
“Just call me Hughes!” Maes grinned, showing off his white teeth.
“Y-yes sir!”
Maes looked around, confused. “Where has the Colonel gone?” he asked, “Haven’t seen him all morning.”
Sheska turned red as a tomato and tried to keep her eyes from sliding to the door of stockroom 3. It wasn’t very successful, but Maes didn’t notice.
“O-oh me neither, sir! It’s still pretty early, so I’m sure you’ll find him eventually.”
Maes sighed, then started grinning cheekily. “Aha! I know what he’s doing! He’s hiding from me and this beautiful picture of my wonderful wife and daughter! Have I shown you yet? Aren’t they just adorable?” he prattled on.
“I’m sure they are,” Sheska smiled awkwardly, the sides of her lips twitching. She wished the lieutenant would just leave.
“Well, I need to go and get started on some work! Make sure to grab the Colonel if you see him around. Tell him I’m looking for him - no wait, don’t tell him that! Just tell me if you see him.”
“Of course, Lieutenant Maes,” Sheska replied, then exhaled in relief as Maes nodded his thanks and disappeared down the corridor.
Quickly, the girl slipped the key to the stockroom into the lock and turned it ever so silently. The door swung open to reveal shelves of old books stacked in corners. But it didn’t end there; even more books were strewn all over the ground and heaped in piles. The room was dark except for the shaft of light now streaming in from the hallway.
Among the piles of books, Sheska spotted Colonel Mustang in his characteristic position: laying on his back with one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over his chest, mouth hanging wide open (a wonder he wasn’t drooling) and an open book covering his face. Sheska knew that underneath that book lay onyx eyes with dark smudges underneath them, and almost couldn’t bring herself to take a step closer.
Despite Maes’s cheerful racket and her inopportune shrieking, Mustang had not even stirred.
“C-colonel Mustang?” she whispered. It had no effect. “Colonel!” she tried again, louder this time. She didn’t want to have to resort to shaking him or slapping him with a book. Sheska shook her head for having these thoughts. That was something only Lieutenant Hawkeye did, and she would never- never- do it. She did not fancy being burnt to a crisp.
Slowly, the sleeping man stirred, groaning as he removed the book from his face. He yawned widely and blinked at Sheska groggily, not yet registering what was going on. The girl waited patiently, holding onto her clipboard nervously.
“Sheska,” he said hoarsely, finally acknowledging her, “How long was I asleep?”
“I’d say only about half an hour, um, sir.”
Roy sighed and rubbed his sore eyes, wishing it had been longer but knowing that it was far too much precious time to waste. To make things worse, the nap had only highlighted his exhaustion.
He hastily climbed to his feet, adjusting his uniform and fixing his hair a bit before walking to the door unsteadily, Sheska hovering at his elbow.
“Damn, I’ve got a meeting in five minutes,” Mustang muttered, checking his pocket watch.
“Sir, may I suggest you get some more sleep?” Sheska said, but didn’t think she should venture past that.
Truth be told, she wanted to yell at him that it wasn’t right to use her like this: to request the storeroom to be opened so he could do research only to nod off on her! And each time Sheska had to turn off the lights for him and go around making excuses as to why no one could enter stockroom 3 because she was just so damn nice! Never again, Colonel, she decided, never again!
“I’m fine,” Mustang replied languidly.
Clearly you’re not, the girl thought, but bit her lip instead of talking.
“I’ll probably be back to finish research though,” Mustang called over his shoulder as he strode down the hall.
“More like to take another nap,” Sheska pouted once he was gone, locking the storeroom behind her. “What’s he doing to himself?” she wondered. If he was just lazy (which everyone knew he was), he wouldn’t have those dark smears under his glazed eyes. And he would probably have the dignity to not fall asleep in a storeroom with a book on his face. Then again, she didn't really know him that well.
***
Roy stood in the bathroom, looking at his slightly disheveled face in the mirror. He had to admit he did not look very good. Turning on the tap, he splashed some cold water on his face to wake himself up a bit more. Two minutes left until his meeting. Just great. He hadn’t even had time to get some coffee, let alone food, both of which he knew he would need as the General’s meetings tended to last hours.
For the past month now he had been extremely busy, as they were working on a peace treaty with the Aerugians and one wrong move would put an end to their painfully negotiated terms. General Grumman was relying on Colonel Mustang for a lot of things, as he knew he could trust him to figure out a way to restore relations with them. True enough, Mustang had worked day and night at Central Command, and he hadn’t stepped foot inside his apartment in over a week.
The room to the meeting room was open, and several of the more commendable members of state were either sitting inside or arriving just as Roy entered.
“General Grumman, sir,” Mustang saluted, then was beckoned to sit at an empty seat at the table.
“Glad you could join us, Colonel,” the General said. Had those words come from anyone else, Mustang would have thought it was to mock his near-tardiness. But the man continued, and Mustang’s worries dissipated.
“Colonel Mustang is in charge of the Aerugian peace operations. He’s doing a fantastic job so far,” Grumman explained to the others, who nodded kindly in understanding.“Thank you, sir.”
Shortly everyone arrived, and the long, tedious meeting began.
“Tensions between Amestris and Aerugia have diminished over the course of time, but one wrong move could break the fine thread of peace. It is crucial that we don’t act rashly,” Grumman explained for the hundredth time.
It was two in the afternoon and Mustang’s eyelids were drooping. He was finding it increasingly harder to stop his head from nodding, and to make it worse, the General kept giving him the spotlight. Roy suspected that it wasn’t entirely because had the most information on the case, more so out of courtesy for his hard work. God, he needed coffee.
It certainly didn’t help that he hadn’t eaten anything since - last night? Afternoon? - and he could feel the something clawing at his insides. His arms curled around his abdomen under the table, hoping the painful churning wouldn’t make any noise.
“Colonel, could you explain the terms the Aerugian’s have agreed to up until now?” Grumman asked him suddenly, and Mustang snapped back up to attention.
Unfortunately, that was the moment his body chose to betray him. In the silence of the room, Roy’s stomach growled loudly. He grimaced, looking away from the General. Nobody made a noise, just stared at him. Dammit, he thought.
“S-sir, the Aerugians have agreed to-” he was interrupted by another loud rumble and hoped his face wasn’t turning beet red.
To his utter horror, Grumman started laughing. Some of the others were joining in, and Colonel Mustang was reduced to a twitching lump of embarrassment that wished it was anywhere but here.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Roy stammered, hating himself completely and utterly. “I’ll continue.”
Grumman stopped laughing and held up his hand to silence Mustang.
“No, it’s alright,” he said, struggling to keep his face neutral, “I think it’s high time we take a break anyway. Meeting adjourned. Everybody grab something to eat and be back in twenty minutes for the second half.”
The others murmured gratefully, chairs scraping against the floor as they got up. Mustang could have slapped himself in shame, but that would have been improper.
“Colonel,” the general called out to him.
“Sir,” Mustang responded, signaling that he was at attention.
“Take care,” Grumman finished.
Forget slapping himself. At this point he could have plunged a knife through his stomach in embarrassment. Instead, he nodded and made his way to the break room.
He hoped Riza wouldn’t be there, because if she found out, she would berate him for not taking proper care of himself and then kill her for everything else.
But of course she was there, standing right at the door with a plate of sandwiches in her hands.
“Hawkeye,” he greeted her. She didn’t return it, just shoved the plate at him.
“Eat,” she commanded, and Mustang wondered if the woman had telepathic abilities or if she had been listening in. She seemed to know everything.
"You forget you're my subordinate," Roy replied, lips twitching in an amused grin.
"Don't pull rank on me, just take it!" the Lieutenant said, annoyed. Mustang took it.
As it turns out, Riza was neither telepathic nor an eavesdropper. She was just very, very perceptive. When Lieutenant Maes, Roy’s best friend, had asked her with some degree of concern where the Colonel was, and she didn’t see him take any breakfast, she grew worried.
Mustang held the plate in one hand while he got himself some coffee, then the pair made their way up to the Colonel's office.
Roy collapsed in his chair with a sigh and started wolfing down the sandwiches, not minding that Riza was staring at him. He was hungry, dammit.
Halfway through he slowed down, realizing that he probably looked like Edward while he ate. Nevertheless, he was finished far too soon.
“Colonel, do you want me to get you anything else?” Lieutenant Hawkeye asked as Mustang leaned back in his chair to look at her.
“No thank you, I can’t have my brain be sluggish during the meeting,” Roy answered, resorting to taking a sip from his coffee. He could have downed the whole thing in a second
“That’s true, sir,” Riza resigned. “Also, sir, we’re going to a restaurant for dinner today.”
Roy nearly choked on his coffee.
“What?” he coughed, struggling to get enough air into his lungs. He had so much work to do, he couldn’t go on an outing that could possibly take hours!
Riza patted him on the back until his hacking subsided and Roy regained his composure.
“Did you come up with this?” Mustang swiveled around on his chair to face his subordinate.
“They’re General Grumman’s orders. Although I quite agree with him,” she pointed out.
“Figures. Just like him to pull something like this. And of course you would only agree,” the Colonel muttered, scowling.
“He’s worried, Colonel. As am I- as we all are,” the Lieutenant amended.
Had he really let himself slip up so much that the General had noticed his one too many sleepless nights? He let his brain go over the course of the past few days.
Grumman probably noticed Roy never went home and stayed in his office till late at night- more like early in the morning. He obviously noticed Roy was famished and probably didn’t miss out on his raccoon eyes. I’ve got to be more careful if I don’t want to be forced on sick leave or whatever twisted idea the General has, he chastised himself.
Mustang sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Fine, Hawkeye. We’ll go to the restaurant. But I assure you there’s nothing wrong with me.”
“Very good, sir. Also, Hughes, Havoc, and Breda are coming too.”
The Colonel nearly choked again. “What?” he croaked. Riza patted his back again, sympathetically this time.
Roy was utterly miserable. He’d thought he’d at least get the night out with Riza, just the two of them. But the universe had turned on him.