Archive of Our Own

The last time Riza donned a full dress uniform, it was when Maes Hughes’ casket was being lowered to the ground. 

The collective military funeral that followed after the coup was mostly attended by the deceased officers’ families as well as a few military personnel who were spared from any serious injuries. Riza couldn’t attend any of them. She had to stay confined at the hospital for two weeks where she experienced the full, post-near death experience package—surgery, multiple blood transfusions, and a quick stop at intensive care. And even after her discharge, she was placed on mandatory medical leave.

Today, she slips on the full dress uniform for the first time in over a year. As she finishes affixing the last of her insignias on her jacket, her friend Rebecca Catalina strolls inside her room, her peaked cap in hand. She plops down on Riza’s bed and starts picking at a stray run along the ankle of her stockings.

“Do you think they’ll serve food afterwards?” Rebecca asks. 

“It’s a pinning ceremony, Becca,” Riza points out.

Riza catches her friend from the reflection of her mirror. A small smile appears on Rebecca’s face. It’s a wistful grin. A lingering memento from their conversations the evening prior.

“I’m going to miss you,” Rebecca tells her.

Riza turns around to face her completely. “It’s a temporary assignment, Becca. Besides, this is just going to be like that time when our unit moved from the East to Central last year.”

Rebecca huffs out a dramatic sigh. “But this is different! Fort Briggs? That’s two train rides away! And nearly a day’s worth of travel!”

“I’m certain you’ll be too busy to be missing me,” Riza says. She meant it in half-jest, but her friend’s frown is a clear indication that there was nothing funny about her attempts at reassurance.

“Sure Grumman may be Fuhrer, but he’s definitely no Bradley,” Rebecca tells her. “He’s not going to overwork me. So trust me when I say that I’ll have enough time allocated throughout the day to be missing my best friend.”

Riza nearly winces as she’s reminded of the fact that she has never really divulged to Rebecca the truth behind her brief, yet harrowing stint as Bradley’s personal assistant. She pushes the thought aside. Today, after all, was a day for celebration. Not a day for guilt and gloom.

“You know, you never told me how he reacted to your reassignment.”

Riza raises an eyebrow at her. “He?”

Rebecca rolls her eyes. “Really, Riza?”

Of course Riza knows exactly who Rebecca is referring to. 

“He was… relatively indifferent about it,” Riza says.

Better pack up enough layers, Lieutenant. Or should I say, Captain Riza Hawkeye.

Duly noted, Sir.

Oh, and send General Armstrong my warmest regards. Although I doubt she’ll want to hear from me after what I did to her mansion.

I’ll let her know you meant well by it, Sir.

Thank you, Lieu–I mean Captain Hawkeye.

You’re welcome, General Mustang.

Lines appear on Rebecca’s forehead as a look of disbelief descends on her features. “So just…nothing then?”

Riza starts for her bedroom door as Rebecca pushes herself off the bed.

“Why would he react otherwise?” The question leaves Riza’s mouth like a ricocheting bullet. 

“I don’t know, Riza,” Rebecca starts. “Maybe because you and Mustang have a…thing?”

There’s no mercy in the bullet’s trajectory. Riza feels it sink into her flesh and hit bone.

“I already told you many times before that there is no ‘thing’ to speak of,” Riza snipes back. “And what you’re implying is downright dangerous, Becca. And completely baseless.”

Rebecca puts up two hands in defense. “Hey, I am simply an innocent, third-party observer. I just call it like I see it.”

Riza plucks her peaked cap from the table. Then she grabs her shoes by the small entryway of her apartment unit. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Rebecca says. “I just…I hate seeing you like this.”

Riza turns to look at her. She’s tempted to let frustration and exasperation and every other messy, complicated feeling inside of her rise to the surface. Yet she stops and takes a deep breath.

Inhale, exhale.

“I’m fine, Rebecca,” she says. The lie tastes like bile and ash in her mouth. Fortunately, she has trained herself to endure the gross discomfort of her lies over the years.

Rebecca reaches out to touch her arm. It’s an achingly tender, stabilizing grip. “Well, you don’t always have to be.”

Riza manages to give her friend a smile. 

“I’m fine. I promise,” Riza lies through her upturned mouth. “Anyway, let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Riza bids her dog farewell before closing and locking her apartment door behind her. 

It’s going to be a long day ahead.

*****

As Roy expected, the pinning ceremony has just about the kind of fanfare as someone’s octogenarian grandparent celebrating their birthday—brief, contained excitement that tapers into something done out of forced courtesy. It’s also the tail-end of December and because of what happened during last spring, the usual merriment of the annual yuletide season had to be foregone and as a result, everyone’s disposition over the past few weeks (in combination with the shorter days and colder weather) has turned mildly somber at best and downright melancholic at worst. 

Roy finds himself oscillating between the two lately. When he remembers his promotion to Brigadier General, his mood is uplifted, albeit only briefly. Because then he’s swiftly  reminded that he’s going to have to navigate becoming the East’s new commanding officer without his most trusted adjutant by his side.

It’s a special request from Major General Armstrong.

I see.

As you know, the good General lost a fair amount of her men because of the coup. And now that we’ve sent Miles to Ishval, she needs someone to temporarily be her right hand.

With all due respect, Sir Fuhrer, I sincerely doubt that General Armstrong really needs any additional hands. Or any hands that aren't the ones she already has at the ends of her arms.

Still quite fond of using humor as a coping mechanism, huh, Mustang?

I’m just fond of using humor for humor’s sake, Sir.

I believe this will be good for Captain Hawkeye. 

Well, in that case, I’ll make sure to tell her to pack extra layers.

Good. The North is brutal around this time of year. 

I’m sure she’ll find a way to stay warm.

The notice regarding Riza’s reassignment couldn’t have reached his desk at a more inopportune time. It was the same week he received the letter regarding his promotion to Brigadier General and despite wanting to remain in good spirits until the pinning ceremony, he had to inevitably sit there in his office and deliver to his lieutenant the news that she was going to have to indefinitely fill in for Major Miles at Fort Briggs. What’s worse was how passive she was. Barely a hint of protest in her disposition as she stood there while he relayed the information of her reassignment. He figured that she might reject it the way she had stubbornly refused to follow some of his orders in the past.

Yet now that he’s finally wishing for her to be insubordinate, she isn’t. 

He definitely grappled with his feelings over it for a while, but ultimately, Roy ended up doing what he does best—-deny and pretend. Deny the fact that it’s actually having any effect on him. Pretend that it’s all for the best.

It’s been working. So far.

The pinning ceremony begins with Fuhrer Grumman’s speech. Words about valor and integrity interspersed with a message of grief and regret over what happened. It’s still somewhat grimly amusing to Roy that the general public continues to be completely oblivious to the truth of the former administration. And so when Grumman mentions Bradley and his passing, Roy fends off the urge to scoff at the teary-eyed audience. 

So he turns to his right instead. A carefully practiced movement that disguises the fact that he’s trying to catch a glimpse of his lieutenant who’s sitting four seats away from him. He’s still cursing whoever made the seating arrangements, but on one hand, it’s definitely for the best.

When Roy regained his sight roughly eight months ago, he found himself in a state which he likes to call ‘I can’t believe I was nearly about to spend the rest of my life never having to see Riza Hawkeye ever again’. It’s a devastatingly pathetic state to be in, but it’s a high he can’t stop chasing. 

She’s always been objectively attractive, but when Roy saw her face for the first time since he went blind, it was as if he was just learning about colors and the different, magnificent ways they can blend and swirl together. 

Was her hair always this golden?

Were her eyes always this warm?

Were her freckles always this charming?

He very nearly burst into tears. Good thing she beat him to it.

Careful, Lieutenant. Crying over me once is fine. But a second time? I might start thinking that you’re in love with me.

With all due respect, Sir, please shut up.

Roy wanted to kiss her then. He didn’t, of course. The day when Riza Hawkeye tells him to shut up and then he finally gets to kiss her afterwards will be the greatest milestone of his life. 

Sensing his gaze, Riza turns her head and they lock eyes. She raises an eyebrow at him.

What?

Nothing.

You’re staring.

No, I’m not.

If you’re going to lie, make sure it’s not to me, Sir.

Three whole seconds and she turns away. They never let it get past that. It’s always just three.

Grumman continues speaking. Meanwhile, Roy straightens in his seat, wishing that he had worn his coat. The cold reminds him of the North and his lieutenant’s imminent absence from his life.

******

Chris’ was unquestionably the perfect place to go to after the ceremony. Hot food, strong drinks, and good company. A perfect combination when the end-goal is to cling as long as possible to the delightful buzz of finally rising through the ranks.

“To Brigadier General Roy Mustang!”

Jean Havoc initiates the first round of toasts. Their group may be small, but the years-long companionship and camaraderie fills the space with so much warmth that Roy nearly forgets the gnawing chill hollowing him out from the inside. 

He only remembers when his gaze lands on his lieutenant—now also newly promoted to Captain—who is sitting in one corner with Rebecca Catalina. They appear to be talking about something, or rather, Catalina’s low tolerance for alcohol is getting the better of her and Riza has a barely disguised amused look on her face as she indulges in her friend’s drunken diatribes.

“So?”

Roy whips his head around to see Chris wiping away at the bar table.

“Don’t say anything,” he tells her, warily.

She lets out a snort. “I wasn’t going to.”

A pause and Roy takes a sip of his drink. It burns, but it does nothing to stave off the chill. “She leaves for the North tomorrow afternoon.”

“I see.”

“I think she’s discussing the temporary custody of her dog with Lieutenant Catalina.”

The arrhythmic clink of glasses is like a ticking time bomb. 

“We never talked about it.”

Chris hums. “You’ve gotta be more specific, boy.”

“Her reassignment. We never…”

Chris simply nods her head.

“I mean, she didn’t even try to oppose it.”

“And that upsets you?” Chris asks him. It sounded less like a question and more of a scathing indictment.

“No,” he replies. “Yes. I mean, I don’t know.”

Chris scoffs. “Well, whatever it is, you have until tomorrow afternoon to figure it out.”

Roy shakes his head. “She’ll be back. It’s only a temporary assignment after all.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, boy,” Chris says.

Roy chuckles. Then he takes another sip of his drink. “I think three more of these might just do the trick.”

This time it’s Chris who shakes her head. “I’m not refilling your glass, kid. Because if you’re going to do something stupid, at least be sober enough for it.”

Roy laughs. “What makes you think I’m going to do something stupid today?”

Chris smiles at him and it’s that smile she used to give him as a kid when she figured out where he was hiding the pieces of chocolates that the clients were leaving for the girls.

“What about it, Mr. Brigadier General?” Chris challenges him. “What’s your first order of business today?”

Roy glances at that same corner of the pub again and she’s still there. Beautiful as ever. He returns his attention to the glass in his hand.

“Probably go home,” he says. “Think I’m going to call it a day.”

Thankfully, Chris doesn’t say anything else after that. 

*****

Riza goes over her list one last time. She's debated for a while as to Hayate’s temporary living situation, only for her to end up deciding that she’ll bring him with her.

She crouches by the dog bed beneath the window. There, Hayate is snuggled under a fleece blanket, eyes slowly fluttering close. Riza took him for a walk earlier and he's clearly all tuckered out.

We'll have to pack more fleece blankets. It will be cold up North after all.

Riza gives her dog a few gentle scratches behind the ear before finally standing up to finish some more last minute packing.

Coffee. I definitely have to bring that.

As she rummages through her cupboard for coffee, she hears a knock on the door.

 It's not just any knock. 

That rhythm, that pattern.

It could only be one person.

Riza approaches the door with a lingering wariness in her body. During and after the pinning ceremony, she managed to have short, cordial conversations with Roy. Just their usual back and forth where Roy takes obvious pleasure in teasing her and in response Riza, blatantly shoots him down. 

You sure look nice today, Captain.

I’d tell you the same, but you’re clearly shivering in the cold because for some reason, you’ve decided not to bring your coat with you.

Well, your face alone is enough to warm me up.

I’m certain that it’s from embarrassment, General, considering that you’re shivering worse than a wet cat.

You wound me, Captain.

Then at Chris’, Riza got swept up in Rebecca’s alcohol-induced sentimentalities. And so, her interactions with her superior remained curt and shallow. Whether or not it was done with unspoken intentionality between them, Riza knew better than to pick at it. It was like an itch. Scratch too hard and too often and you’d draw blood.

But Riza wasn’t a fool, though. She could sense the split-second glances from across the pub. She never returned any of them. She was too afraid of what they would mean at that moment.

Riza opens the door and true enough, her commanding officer appears before her. No longer in dress uniform, but this time, he managed to layer on his large black coat. He’s holding a container in one hand.

“May I come in?” he says.

She nods her head as she widens the door open for him. Then she takes his coat and hangs it by the entryway.

It’s not like Roy has never been here before. He was here when they first moved from the East. It was brief. Done out of courtesy. Just one of the many check-ins he was apparently doing with his subordinates.

Poor Falman, though. His landlord is apparently an asshole. And Havoc’s asking me to find him a different apartment. Said his neighbor yelled at him twice for smoking.

Then there was the time after her discharge from the hospital. He already regained his sight and to say that their interactions were then teetering towards bizarre would be an understatement.

She found herself averting his gaze more than usual because he was staring at her more than usual. For a time, their casual back and forth was few and sparse. It wasn’t as if they didn’t spend some time in the hospital unpacking what had happened in the tunnels. They definitely did, and in a way that was familiar and comfortable to them both—direct, clinical, and with a smattering of their usual banter that cut perfectly through the weight of any burgeoning inappropriate emotions. 

Rebecca once called them ridiculous. Told them that they’re too old to be emotionally stunted. 

We’re not.

What would you call it then, Riza?

Professional and realistic.

Now he’s here and while they’ve both moved on significantly from that brief, post-hospital confinement period of vague awkwardness, Riza can’t seem to entirely shake off that itch when they’re alone in the privacy of her apartment.

“I brought pie,” Roy tells her as he makes his way to her small dining area. “It’s from Gracia. For the road, she said.”

He places the container on the table, but he doesn’t pull up a chair. 

Riza looks at the pie, then at him. Careful. Assessing.

“Thank you,” she says finally. “I’ll make sure to give her a call. Give her my thanks.”

Roy nods. Another moment of silence descends on them and it seems to stretch on forever.

“Would you like some tea—”

“Don’t go to Briggs—”

Riza freezes.

“What?”

Roy musses his hair in a way that Riza knows could only mean one thing: discomfort.

“I said,” Roy begins, more firmly this time. “Don’t go to Briggs.”

Riza quirks an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you think it’s a little bit too late for that now considering that I’m due to leave tomorrow?”

He sighs. Then he makes a motion to step closer towards her, but he thinks better of it and he stays where he’s already standing. 

She wished he’d move.

“I…” Roy shakes his head. “I don’t think I can run the Eastern Command without you.”

She stares at him and for the first time, his features are wholly unreadable. Not because there’s an absence of information to be gleaned from the creases in the corners of his eyes or the small twitch of his brows, but because there’s too much at once. Too much emotion and not enough space inside of her when she’s also grappling with her own feelings at this moment.

“You have Breda,” Riza reminds him. “And Havoc and Fuery.”

“You don’t…” He doesn’t finish it. Roy just shakes his head again and this time, he makes the decision to move towards her and Riza feels all the air in her lungs dissipate.

He’s close now. Perhaps only a few inches from her. She wants to turn away from him. To run where it’s safe. But how can she when any sense of security she’s felt has always led back to him. To Roy Mustang.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he asks her. His voice has dropped to an almost whisper. Riza thinks she can hear his heartbeat.

“What are you doing?” Riza asks. It’s a simple four-word question disguised as many other questions she’s always wanted to ask.

Why didn’t you oppose my reassignment?

Why were you acting so strangely after I was discharged?

Just what am I to you exactly?

Just what is this between us?

“I can’t be without you,” Roy says. His words aren’t as flimsy as the last one because this time, he’s looking at her. Dark eyes against brown ones.

Riza’s throat is tight.

Don’t cry.

“You’ll be fine, General,” she whispers. She takes in a deep breath which was a mistake because all she smells is him. She turns away and is about to make for her kitchen when a hand snatches her wrist.

“Don’t go.”

She doesn’t look back at him. “This is not our decision to make.”

It has never been our decision to make, right?

Roy pulls her to him and she lets him. She wants to tear away from his hold, yet she’s now drawn back to him and she’s looking him in the eyes. 

Riza remains there. Roy’s hand on her wrist. Their bodies perhaps half an inch apart now. Their breathing in perfect harmony with one another.

“One word from you and I’ll let go,” Roy says. “One word and I’ll stop and I’ll leave right now.”

She almost missed it, the way he glances at her mouth. 

“Riza?”

Her name. She was only seventeen when he last called her by her name. Now it’s been ten years since and she can’t help but wonder why it took him this long. Why it took them this long.

It’s like her body has been ripped at the seams with her emotions. Her hands, strong and the most certain they have ever been, pull him close to her and it’s her mouth against his and before she’s even able to process what she has done, Roy is already slowly backing her against the nearest wall. His hands are firm and calloused as they cradle her jaw. He kisses with a painful longingness and regret that only she can reciprocate in equal fervor. 

When they pull apart, their breathing is labored and raw. Riza stills feels him against her. His chest, his hands, the beating of his heart through the layers of clothing.

A wave of shame wraps her in a ferocious heat. She shouldn’t be doing this. They shouldn’t be doing this.

But then Roy tenderly cups her cheek and runs a thumb across the soft skin below her eye.

“I’ve always loved your freckles,” he says in reverie. “I’ve noticed that they fade during the winter. You’ll probably return from the North with barely a trace of them.”

Riza squeezes her eyes shut.

“Roy?”

“Yes?”

Riza looks at him again and she swallows that persistent lump constricting her throat. “Why didn’t you oppose my reassignment?”

Roy appears to be taken aback by her question. So much so that he’s pulling away from her and Riza almost regrets asking. 

She watches her commanding officer distance himself, his back turned to her, and he’s doing that thing with his hair again. Then, Riza hears him sigh.

“Do you want the honest answer?” Roy finally faces her. His face remains a code of lines and creases that Riza still can’t decipher.

Riza crosses her arms over chest. “As opposed to what?”

“It’s not that simple,” Roy tells her as that same expression of discomfort remains etched on his face.

“Try me.” 

They stand there in cautious regard of one another. A stable distance away from each other, boundaried by her small dining table. 

“I did not oppose your reassignment to the North because I am a coward and a fool,” Roy tells her. For a brief moment, he seems unable to maintain eye contact, but Roy appears to draw something from within himself so that when he looks at Riza, she feels almost pinned firmly in place by his gaze. “Cowardly enough to run from my problems and foolish enough to think that I'd ever wanted these problems to be solved in the first place.”

Riza unfolds her arms and lets them hang by her sides. “Was I the problem?”

Roy smiles. It’s less an expression of joy or satisfaction, but more of amused incredulity. “No, of course not. You’re never the problem.” Then he pauses and Roy opens his mouth only to close it again. Then a bitter laugh escapes him. 

“I just…,” he looks heavenward, as if searching for answers in the dusty ceilings of her apartment. “I just had this feeling that maybe if we spend some time apart, I’d be able to fix this problem.” 

Then their eyes meet and there’s an intensity in the way Roy looks at her that makes Riza feel like she’s being seen for the first time. 

“I thought that maybe the distance might temper these feelings that I’ve been having over the past six or so years, but it turns out, just the mere threat of your physical absence from my life feels like a fate worse than death.” Roy concludes his statements with a bitter chuckle.

It’s like standing on the precipice of a cliff and Riza is looking over the edge. Once she jumps, there’s never going back.

“Feelings?” Riza asks, willingly walking head first into a trap of her own making.

Roy looks down. When he finally raises his head, Riza notices the slight sheen of imminent tears in his eyes.

“I’m helplessly in love with you, Riza Hawkeye,” he says. Pleads. “And I know that I’m the absolute last person you’d ever want to hear that from because I know that I do not deserve you. So yes, I’m telling you I love you, but I’m also telling you that you don’t have to love me back. I just…I just want you to stay. With me.”

The second Riza heard the word ‘love’ leave Roy’s mouth, she wanted to retaliate with a thousand other admissions of her own.

I’m scared of what’s happening between us.

I doubt that you actually love me.

But I also want you to love me.

I feel selfish for feeling this way.

I also do not deserve you.

We do not deserve each other.

But we also deserve each other.

This is hell.

This is paradise.

I want to be with you too.

Riza narrows the gap between them and she spots Roy’s hand on the table. She reaches for it and thankfully, he lets her hold it.

“I have less than twenty-four hours left in this city before I get on a train,” Riza tells him. “I’m not certain that’s enough time to understand everything right now. However…”

Riza brings her hand to Roy’s face and she tilts his head so that she’s able to look much closer at him. She takes in the dark circles, the light mist of almost-tears, the lines of worry scoring his handsome face.

There’s no doubt about it. Riza Hawkeye is also helplessly in love with Roy Mustang.

“Would you spare me the time to try and figure it out together?” she asks him. 

Roy leans in closer until their foreheads brush. 

“For you,” he whispers. “I’d do anything for you.”

The second kiss starts off gentle, but it quickly shifts into something more urgent and desperate.

“Bedroom,” Riza pants in between the warm press of their mouths. 

Roy nods and it’s a flurry of hasty and clumsy movements as well as their joyous exhales of laughter that trail after them as they make their way to Riza’s bedroom. 

By the time Riza feels the backs of her knees touch the edge of her bed, Roy has already discarded his dress shirt and he has unbuckled his pants. Whereas Riza’s blouse has been untucked and unbuttoned completely. Her long skirt ruffled, her hair completely undone.

Roy carefully slips off her blouse from her body and Riza relishes in every fevered touch of his hand on her skin. She then steps out of her skirt and Roy backs away a few inches as Riza peels off the remaining pieces of her undergarments.

“You’re staring,” Riza says, smiling. 

“I know.”

“You can stop pretending that you’ve never seen a naked woman before, Roy.”

Roy laughs. “To be fair, none of them were you.”

As if realizing what he just said, an aggressive flush spreads across Roy’s face.

“N-not t-that I was imagining you in that sense,” he stammers. “Well not because I don’t think you’re—”

“Roy,” Riza says. “Please shut up.”

And Riza kisses him.

******

Roy didn’t think this was how his evening was going to pan out. He left Chris’ in a somber mood, intending to drown himself in an alchemical text before eventually succumbing to sleep. Then he was going to wake up early the following day, go about business as usual at headquarters as their unit prepares for their official transfer back East, and then see Riza off at the train station by afternoon. 

It was a simple, flawless plan.

What he did do instead was pace the length of his small apartment, rehearse a series of dialogues over and over in his head like a mad man, try reaching for the phone to call Riza only to stop himself before foolishly rushing out of his apartment, stopping at a bakery along the way, and inevitably finding himself at Riza’s front steps.

Now he’s in Riza Hawkeye’s bed and she’s beautiful and she’s every magnificent, wonderful thing in this godforsaken world. She makes the most delightful, breathy noises when he touches her, when he kisses her neck, and when he lets a hand graze her breasts.

“Have you done this before?” Roy asks her before his hand could travel any lower. Instead, it lands on the curve of her waist.

“I have a large tattoo of an alchemical array on my back, Roy,” she says bluntly. “I don’t exactly have the luxury of having sexual escapades on account of that alone.”

Roy knows she’s withholding the fact that she also has burn scars on her back, but he doesn’t press her any further over it. 

Instead, he shifts and says, “I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you’re uncomfortable with doing. So, if at any moment it feels too much, just tell me. Promise?”

Riza nods. “I promise.”

He kisses her on the forehead and he presses another kiss along her jaw. “Can I touch you here?” Roy’s hand lingers near her inner thigh and even with just the most featherlight stroke of his fingers, he can already feel Riza shiver.

“Yes,” she tells him. Then without saying anything else, she parts her thighs and Roy gently prods at her center. 

Roy hears a light gasp and he senses her adjust against him. She’s warm and wet and his fingers glide easily when he finds her clit.

“Okay?” he asks as he presses a thumb against her sensitive nub.

Riza nods. “It’s good. It feels good.”

He kisses her again and this time it’s more languid. Less reckless. Then his mouth latches on to the sensitive skin below her jaw, sliding lower to her collarbones, then lower and lower until Riza is raising herself up on her arms.

“What are you—”

Roy pulls his hand away and he settles between her thighs.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Riza says softly. “I always trust you.”

Roy smiles at her. “Good.”

He kisses her inner thigh once. Twice. Then his mouth is on her cunt and her gasp is more audible this time. 

Roy is tentative about it at first. Soft licks and gentle nips. But eventually, he’s savoring the taste of her like a man starved until he feels the tug of Riza’s fingers on his hair, her nails scraping his scalp.

He hears his name uttered over and over in that sweetly melodic voice of hers and when he fits two fingers inside her, it takes him a few thrusts of his digits before she’s clenching and trembling around him. His name lost and garbled in the cacophony of her pants and moans.

When he kisses her on the mouth again, she’s breathless and trembling in the aftermath of her climax. Yet it does not diminish her eagerness as she reaches between them until her fingers circle his cock.

“Is this alright?” she asks him as she starts to stroke his length.

‘Alright’ is a severe understatement because everything around his immediate vicinity seems to fade into the background and all Roy feels is the pleasant grip of Riza’s hand around him. 

“Yes,” he manages to say. A groan threatens to spill out of him, but he muffles it when he plants more kisses along the curve of Riza’s neck. 

The pleasure inside him mounts in slow increments and just as Roy is about to remove Riza’s hand before it gets too much, he feels the head of his cock brush against something tight and wet.

Roy peers down and he sees Riza guiding him against her center.

“Someone’s eager,” Roy teases her.

“And you’re not being helpful,” she snarks back. 

He laughs. He’s overjoyed and in love and he’s about to bid her good-bye tomorrow. 

Roy kisses her. She kisses back and she’s raising her hips to meet him.

“Wait.” Roy steadies Riza with a hand on her hip. “Condom?”

“I’m taking contraceptives,” Riza answers quickly. “Quit stalling.”

Roy laughs again and he’s kissing her and holding her impossibly close to him. He wants to tell her how much he’ll miss this—miss her. But he bites his tongue. He’ll reserve the sentimentalities for later.

When he finally starts to enter her, it’s like an entirely new world opens up before Roy. A before and after on a grand, cosmic level. 

Roy takes her all in—the arch of her back, those intoxicating little gasps leaving her swollen, kiss-bitten lips, the crimson flush of her cheeks, her glassy brown eyes, and her freckles. Her beautiful freckles that are in full bloom against her skin.

Roy strokes her cheek. “You’re so beautiful.”

Riza’s eyes flutter shut as he continues to trace the freckles on her face. Roy starts to move against her, slow and measured.

“I love how brave you are,” Roy tells her. “You’re the bravest person I know. I love how kind you are and how your kindness makes you strong. I love your dry sense of humor and your sharp comebacks.”

“Roy…”

He starts to pick up the pace and Riza lets out a soft moan. 

“I love how you keep me on my toes, how you challenge me, and hold me accountable,” Roy continues and he’s starting to grow slightly lightheaded from the feel of her around him. 

“Still okay?” Roy checks in.

Riza nods. “Still okay. I just…”

“Just what?” Roy asks breathlessly. He knows his words are beginning to slur as well.

“I need more,” she pleads. “Just a bit more.”

Roy smiles and he plants a kiss on her sweaty brow. “It’s alright, I got you.”

He holds her closer and he moves even faster and deeper. 

For a moment, they spared no words to each other. Instead, there’s only the sound of their breathing and the feverish press of skin against skin.

Roy knows he’s getting close and he almost slows down to check on Riza when he hears her gasp and the arms she has wrapped around his body tightens as her body jerks against him. 

He hears his name. Riza says it once, then twice. Then she concludes with three words. An admission. A declaration.

I love you.

He’s hurtling over the edge and Roy lets out a rough groan, mouth pressed against Riza’s shoulder as his climax tears through him. 

For a few seconds, he feels devoid of all senses. He feels suspended in a haze where his limbs are unstable and molten. 

“You’re heavy.”

Riza’s voice brings him right back and it dawns on Roy—this miraculous, incredible reality—that he’s right here with Riza Hawkeye.

Roy moves to lay down beside her and he feels her slot herself against his chest. He pulls her in his arms and he kisses the top of her head.

“That pie,” Riza says all of a sudden. “It’s not Gracia’s.”

He peers down at her and she looks right back at him. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roy lies.

“I could smell the cinnamon,” she continues. “Gracia never uses cinnamon in her pies.”

Roy smiles and he brushes the stray locks of blonde hair falling over Riza’s lovely face. “Nothing gets past you.”

“I’ll still have that pie though,” Riza says.

“In a while,” Roy tells her. “Let’s just stay like this for now.”

Outside, Roy notices the first snowfall of winter. For the first time in days, he doesn’t think of the North. Instead, he thinks about the person in his arms and the endless possibilities of their shared future together.

They fall asleep together like that. Inseparable.

******

When they wake up, it’s close to midnight. Roy suggests leaving, but Riza ends up using the snowfall as an excuse to keep him around longer. 

He stays. They shower together and crawl back into bed.

When they wake up during daybreak, they don’t immediately get out of bed. Instead, they talk aimlessly about everything and nothing. Then a wandering hand slips underneath someone’s shirt and they make love a second time. 

They finally leave the bed when Riza hears Hayate calling her attention from outside the bedroom.

They have breakfast together. More aimless conversation. The pie tastes average and they laugh about it. 

Riza wants to tell Roy that she’ll miss him. She doesn’t. Even as he’s putting on his coat and slipping on his shoes, she still doesn’t tell him. Roy kisses her before he leaves.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

“I’ll see you soon,” she answers back.

It’s quiet once he’s gone. Riza eventually finishes packing. When she hops inside the shower, she lets the tears fall.

******

The train station is bustling with people as always. Thankfully, the small snowstorm from the previous evening did nothing to disrupt the trains’ stops and it seems that each one has been arriving right on time so far.

“Guess this is it,” Rebecca says. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Riza smiles at her best friend. They share a hug. Hayate barks.

“I’m going to miss you too, buddy!” Rebecca squats down to pet Hayate who eagerly pounces on her lap, tail wagging in excitement.

“Hawkeye!”

Riza looks up at the sound of her name and there she sees them. Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and—

“Well, look who it is,” Rebecca teases while bumping her shoulder against Riza.

From across the sea of commuters, Riza locks eyes with him. 

Roy.

Rebecca throws a salute. “Good afternoon, General Mustang.”

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant Catalina,” Roy says. 

His gaze never once wavered. 

“Captain Hawkeye.”

“General Mustang.”

The rest of the squad marches in tow. All three of them give her a salute. 

“Safe travels, Captain!” Havoc says.

“Say hi to Falman for us,” Breda chimes in.

“Don’t forget to call!” Fuery adds.

Roy takes a step closer and for a frightening moment, Riza thought that he was going to initiate an embrace, but instead, he simply brings a hand on her shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“Take care,” Roy tells her. “I’ll see you soon.”

Riza raises her hand for a salute. “I’ll be back, Sir.”

The shrill sound of the train arriving pierces the air and Riza, leash and luggage in hand, starts to make her way to the platform.

“Good-bye, Riza!” Rebecca calls after her.

Riza turns around. She waves back. To Rebecca. To Havoc. To Breda. To Fuery.

Finally, she looks at Roy. His eyes tell her everything she needs to know.

Riza eventually boards the train. She finds her seat and Hayate curls up beside her. Then when she’s all settled, she slips her hand inside the pocket of her coat and sure enough she finds a small piece of paper folded up into quarters.

She unfurls the small and reads the handwriting she’s come to know so well.

I’ll be thinking of you always. I love you and I’ll miss you. 

Come back soon.

-RM

Riza smiles. She stuffs the note back inside her pocket. She’s going to be fine.

They’re going to be fine.

END.