Fraternization
Full Metal Alchemist first part of a one-shot in my (eventual) Guns&Gloves series
Roy/Riza
She propped him up against the side of the house, then quickly unlocked the door. "Come on, sir," she instructed briskly. "You can hardly stand - let's go inside."
"Okay," he said happily, smiling ridiculously. "Where are we?"
Hawkeye rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. "We're at my apartment, sir. You're drunk and I don't trust you to be alone right now." She tried to pull him inside but he wasn't cooperating. "Colonel," she said, growing ever more irritated, "I'd appreciate it if you'd just come - " she stepped behind him and pushed hard " - inside." He laughed and stumbled but managed to make it through the doorway.
Sighing, Hawkeye shut the door behind them.
Roy was already in the living room, and she was unsurprised to see that he had plopped down on the couch.
Hawkeye crossed her arms and glared at him. He just grinned. "Hello Hawkeye," he said merrily. He patted the cushion beside him. "Have a seat."
Not wanting to upset him, she walked over and sat down primly beside him. "Colonel, I - "
But she was interrupted when he lay his head on her shoulder. He grinned up at her. "Hello." He gaped at her a little. "Wow, Hawkeye... you're looking pretty good."
"What?!" She scooted away from him. His head fell, but he quickly sat up again. "Don't say things like that."
He leaned his head onto the back of the couch and closed his eyes. "Okay. No thinging says like that." With a smile, he started singing softly - a song she didn't know. Every few moments, she was able to make out a discernible word.
Hawkeye sighed. The Colonel was drunk. And in her apartment, no less! The whole situation was ludicrous. And telling her she was attractive... If that wasn't the start of a scene from some cheesy romance novel, she didn't know what was.
She cleared her throat nervously and looked off towards her bookshelf on the far side of the room. It wasn't as though it upset her to hear that she was attractive, but he was drunk off his ass and she knew he didn't mean it. He would probably be chatting up anything in a skirt, and a woman of lesser character would already have said skirt on the floor with his uniform. Even in his normal state, words like that would have made her uncomfortable.
Deep down, she had always wished for him to say something like "You're beautiful." She wasn't a hopeless romantic, but there was a stubbornly idealistic streak in her character that made her heart flutter when she was near him and caused all sorts of inappropriate office day-dreams to pop up when she had a free moment. He was more than her colonel, he was someone she'd give her life for. She loved him. No matter what she told herself or others, she loved him. Loved him.
Even though he looked ridiculous, she thought as she glanced over at him. How could she be in love with that?
Sometimes she wished that she was brave enough to just go wild - tell him how she felt and have one night where she could pretend that he felt the same. But she was sensible first, and she knew that the consequence of such actions would bring more than she could deal with. She almost swore aloud. How dare he get drunk. And how dare she be so responsible and caring as to want to take care of him! While they were working, she could ignore him easily - but when they were alone in such a casual setting, she found herself growing more uncomfortable by the minute. If only there were a way to get around any unpleasant consequences! She felt herself longing to at least touch him - his hair had fallen over his eyes and he wore a silly, beautiful smile. If only she could... wipe it from his memory in some way. But of course that was impossible. Such a course of action wasn't even plausible. The only ways to insure that he wouldn't remember anything would be to drug him or get him so drunk that...
She swallowed nervously as realization dawned. He was that drunk. She glanced at him once, then turned back to stare at her bookshelf. A moment later, she glanced again. He was still singing - and she was assuming that he was still awake. It was true that he was drunk, but that didn't mean anything.
Riza shot up from the couch. "I'm going to get a glass of water for you, sir," she said quickly, using the first excuse she thought of. "Please don't move. I'll be back in just a moment." And she hurried to the kitchen, not even listening to see if he had a response. She nervously turned on the faucet and held a cup under it. She needed to calm down. There was no reason to get so worked up about Colonel Mustang. She took a long drink from the cup of water, then topped it off.
She was going to go back in there, and everything would be fine.
Except when she walked back in everything was not fine, and why in the hell had Roy taken his shirt off?
He grinned at her. "Oh... Hi, Hawkeye!" He tried to stand up. He did not succeed. She took a deep, calming breath as she watched him sit on the floor like a child, laughing loudly.
"Colonel?"
He beamed. "Yes, lieutenn... ten... lieuan..." He frowned. "Hawkeye?"
"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"
"I got hot." He grinned. "Why are you in my house?"
"Sir, this is my house. As I explained when we arrived, I did not trust you to be alone. You are very, very - very - drunk. Now please get off the floor." Almost as an after-thought, she added, "And put your shirt on, too."
He struggled for a moment, but when it became apparent that he couldn't do it by himself, Riza rolled her eyes and walked over to help him. She grabbed his arms and hauled him to his feet. Roy only laughed, tripping over nothing as he tried to stand. He leaned on Riza once she had gotten him up, putting all his weight on her. She grunted at the shift in force. He wasn't a big man, but he was bigger than she was, and a full-sized man as nothing but dead weight wasn't exactly easy for her to support.
"Colonel," she said roughly, "please try to help me, here - I need you to cooperate." She led him back onto the couch and handed him the cup of water she had brought - she had set it on the coffee table before helping him to his feet. "Drink," she said commandingly.
So he did.
She sat down beside him again and sighed. What was she going to do? The temptation was certainly there; he would be more than willing to sleep with her if she asked, and he was so drunk that the chance of him remembering what happened was slim. But it wouldn't be appropriate, and she couldn't help but think that to do that would be taking advantage of him in a vulnerable state.
She didn't have time to continue the argument, however, because at that time Roy decided to take matters into his own hands.
--STILL UNFINISHED--