Finding a Balance
by Granate, 2005 - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Hawkeye was awake in an instant and immediately aware of a weight pinning her to the bed. She was on her back and sprawled across her, dead to the world and muscled body feeling like lead, was one Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc. She closed her eyes again, waiting for the embarrassment, the panic, and the urgent need to escape, but they never came. She waited and still there was nothing. She had just woken up trapped under Havoc and the fact that she wasn't freaking out about this was nearly enough to make her freak out. They worked together. She would have to see him every day. This was really something she should be freaking out about. She blinked her eyes open again but didn't find much to look at over the curve of his shoulder. The room was dark but she could make out the shapes of furniture and the squares of light made by a window and the sliding glass doors that opened to a balcony. The place smelled only faintly of cigarette smoke but certainly not as bad as it could have, knowing his habits. It was quiet, just the distant ticking of a clock and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. Her own breathing was restricted by the weight on top of her. She realized her hand was resting comfortably on his lower back, fingers in the dip of his spine. His skin was smooth and warm. One of his legs was between hers and one arm was draped over her torso. She'd never woken so tangled with someone before. She didn't always prefer to spend the night with lovers and the few whom she had, kept to themselves when they slept. She really should wake him. She really should be on her way. She wondered what time it was. She opened her mouth to speak to him, but stopped. What the hell was she supposed to call him now? Could she still call him Havoc? She tried to shape the word Jean but it felt so strange on her lips. "Havoc," she said softly and shrugged the shoulder he was using as a pillow. A noise rumbled up from deep in his chest and liberated itself as a grunt, but that was the extent of the response she got from him. "Wake up, Havoc," she said more firmly. "But I'm comfy," he groaned in earnest this time. He nuzzled into her shoulder as he shifted around and eventually ended up exactly where he started, lying halfway on her like some kind of human body pillow. One arm tightened over her stomach, muscles flexing and relaxing again, fingers spreading over her ribs and thumb lazily stroking the side of her breast. She felt his dick awaken against her thigh, quickly eliciting the corresponding reaction in her own body. At this rate, she would never get home. This was not how a man acted after a one-night thing. She had thought they would screw around and get whatever it was out of their systems, and then everything would go back to normal. He should be getting up, sorting out their clothes, having a smoke, taking a shower, saying goodnight. He should not be holding her so tightly. He should not be trying to keep her here. Most troubling of all, she should not be feeling like she wanted to be kept here. "Lt. Havoc, you're heavy," she said in her best authoritative military voice. Ok, maybe it wasn't her best, not by a long shot, but it was the best she could do at the moment. She could feel him smile against her shoulder. "My apologies, Ma'am," he answered in his own watered down military voice. His arms pushed under her back and he drowsily rolled them over. "That better? Feels pretty good to me," he said after arranging her over him to his liking. Since she was now free of him, she was going to get up, really she was, but he was clumsily gathering all her hair and smoothing it down her back. She was really, truly, fully intending to get up, but then those hands were kneading over her butt and settling on the backs of her thighs, and oh, that felt really good. She rested her cheek against his collarbone and his fingers slid up her inner thigh, making her moan and press herself against him. No, she thought in a sudden panic, she had to get up. If she stayed here, they'd do it again and fall asleep and then wake up and go for thirds and then sleep right through work. She had to get up while she still could. She had learned the hard way what happened when he was done with her, her knees would be jelly and she'd be in no shape for leaving. She vaguely remembered trying to get herself to the bathroom to clean up after they'd finished earlier, but she'd been so wobbly when she stood that she would have fallen over if he hadn't caught her and pulled her back into bed. And that was the last thing she remembered before waking up. How embarrassing. She desperately hoped he didn't remember that. "No, wait, we can't, we should get up, I should go, what time is it?" she blurted out all at once as she pushed off of his chest and sat up. It forced his breath out and effectively stopped his hands. She was a sucker for a good pair of hands and Havoc's were the best she'd felt in a very long time. Big, strong, confident… Just the first time he'd touched her knee earlier that evening told her she was in real trouble and it had only gotten worse since then. Or better, depending on how you looked at it. "You could stay," he suggested. His hands were back almost immediately, settling themselves lightly around her waist. "Yes, you could stay right there. I like you right there." His large hands around her waist made her feel small, the same way it did when he wrapped his fingers around her ankle. She wasn't sure how she felt about that but she definitely did not approve of it exciting her the way it did. She'd always despised helpless girls, the kind men seemed to flock to. She would rather be thought of as distant and frigid than weak. She was strong and she wanted someone who could appreciate that. So why was it that this man's hands made her forget about all that? Not forget to be strong, but forget her façade, forget to keep her expression neutral, forget to keep her voice low, forget all about worrying what people saw when they looked at her. She shifted slightly and felt him half hard now and nestled hotly against her thigh. Her mind fogged over. "I…" she moaned. What was wrong with this? Oh that's right, they had to work tomorrow. "No," she said, more feebly than she intended, "I really should go." He made a few disappointed noises that made her suspect that if she could see him properly, he would look like a pouting little boy. "Never could argue with a woman," he sighed and sat up. "I'll get a light," he said and she felt a hand in her hair briefly as she moved away so he could get up. She heard him move through the room and then a light flicked on in the bathroom. She blinked as her eyes adjusted and took in the small apartment. She had come here while it was light out, but not surprisingly, she didn't remember much about the place. It was one room, a bathroom, and a kitchenette, much like her own place. A couple of screens and the shape of the room set the bed apart so that it wasn't really visible from anywhere but the bathroom, which was were he was, inspecting his stubble and futilely running a hand through his hair. She just watched him, wondering why she'd never noticed before that he was quite tall and his shoulders were so broad. He stretched and yawned, scratching his side lazily as he padded to the closet. He was still partially hard and seeing it made her want to haul him over, throw him back on the bed, and get back on top of him like she had been just two minutes ago. "It's only ten," he said in surprise, interrupting her thoughts. He threw on a black bathrobe and cinched the tie at his waist as he brought a second over to her. "I see you haven't left yet," he said with a little amused smile as he handed her the dark green robe. It looked thinner and softer than the one he wore. She took it and quickly pulled it around her shoulders. "Let me make you some food," he was saying, "we skipped dinner, after all." "Can I trust your cooking?" she asked doubtfully as she tied the robe shut. He was being much too attentive. She was putting the robe on instead of her clothes. They were not acting like two people who were just going to forget about it. What was she doing? She knew better than this, really she did. "Hey, I can cook," he said indignantly, "I'm a damned good cook. Do you like peanut butter?" She gave him a flat stare as she combed through her hair in attempt to tame it. She kept her expression hard to hide the fact that she was finding his sly look cute. "I was joking," he chuckled. "All right," she agreed without any real reluctance. There should have been reluctance. There was more than enough food at her own house. She should go home, take a shower, eat something, feed Black Hayate, go to bed, and forget about all this. She refused to admit to herself or anyone else that she would have settled for peanut butter right now. "But before that," he said holding out a hand, "my cigarettes." "In my purse," she said, moving to get up. "Need some help standing up, there?" he asked with a teasing grin. She gave him another flat stare so that she didn't outwardly cringe in embarrassment that he did, in fact, recall her nearly falling over before. Purposefully, smoothly, she stood up and was perfectly steady, no thanks at all to the handiwork of Jean Havoc. Even a couple more minutes on the bed with him and she wouldn't be getting up at all, neither of them would be. For several hours. Not that she remembered putting it there, but her purse was lying unceremoniously on the floor near the door. She knelt and dug out his pack of cigarettes and matches. He looked almost giddy as she returned them and then he ambled to the balcony door. She watched as he sat down on the chair and propped his feet up on the rail before she turned her attention to locating her belongings. Her gun holster was dumped on the floor as well, a little ways away. She picked it up and hung it on the back of a chair. Her shoes were also by the door and her lacey underwear was more towards the bed. She didn't own much fancy underwear and had only worn this pair because they didn't show under the skirt, but she was kind of thinking she needed more. Havoc had gone completely nutty over them, she recalled him removing the lacey garment with his teeth. Hawkeye twisted her hair and flipped it up before realizing that she had no idea where her clip was. When had it been taken off? She didn't even remember. She sighed and let the hair fall back over her shoulders as she went about collecting the rest of her clothes. She knew she should put them on right now to give that firm "not staying tonight" impression, but she simply folded them and left them on the chair. She hung her jacket over the gun holster and then picked up his clothes too, laying them over another chair so his uniform wouldn't get wrinkled. Her hairclip, however, was not to be found. Just then she heard a familiar yip from the door. She stared at the door wondering if she were dreaming, which would certainly explain a few things, but then she heard it again. Thinking she must be crazy, she unlocked the door and swung it open. Black Hayate trotted inside and sat down. She stared at him in disbelief as she shut the door. Not only had he found her, but he'd somehow gotten into the building. He just looked at her and then dashed to the open balcony door. "Heya, mutt!" she heard Havoc say as she followed the little dog. They both looked up at her when she appeared in the doorway. "Hey, who ordered delivery?" Havoc grinned, dog now sitting on his lap. "I know you're not really sitting there thinking about stir-frying my dog," she shook her head. He scratched behind Black Hayate's ear. "Nope, I'm sitting here thinking about how I can get you to stay tonight." "Havoc." "We could just pick up where we left off there," he said, looking through the glass towards the bed, then back at the mutt, "Only, he can't come. Him and me, we just ain't that close yet." "Tomorrow morning would be a royal pain," she said, not sure if she was reminding him or herself. "Oh right, work," he grumbled and took a drag on the cigarette. This was surreal. It was difficult to reconcile the fact that this was Havoc, the same guy she'd known and worked with for five years. She had always liked him, of course, and when she thought about it, she liked all four of the men in Mustang's group on some level. There was Breda, who was so much smarter than he normally acted. Farman, who brought patience and sensibility to the group - as long as the case didn't involve any alleged ghostly activity. Fury, who had such a kind heart and an unnatural talent for fixing things. And Havoc, what did he contribute? He was the steady eddy, the rock, the dependable one. Give him a job, see it done right. For as lazy and delinquent as he could be sometimes with his skirt chasing and the cigarette always hanging from his mouth, he was a truly reliable person who had an admirable amount of integrity when it came to his work. While realizing that she liked Havoc was no big revelation, what still shocked her was the overwhelming chemistry they had. Havoc had always felt like a "safe" male to her, she'd never thought of him in a romantic context. She wouldn't consider him a close friend, but more of a comrade or a partner. He was friendly, easy to be around, loyal, and respectful. He'd stuck by her side in more than one conflict. Other than work or military matters, he'd never seemed too interested in her. What had happened in the last day to change that, she had no idea, but he'd been radiating lust all day. Could she really be blamed for getting so caught up in it? It couldn't possibly be just the skirt. It was shocking and a little embarrassing that something as simple as her legs could change the entire tone of the office. Mustang had seen her in a skirt before, so he had just been amusedly curious as to why she was wearing it. Fury tried to avoid looking at her, Farman sweated more than he normally did, Breda was a little bit cheerful for once, and Havoc... Havoc just stared. He stared at her in that "I'm picturing you naked" way all day. It pissed her off but it turned her on a whole lot more. When was the last time anybody had looked at her like that? She didn't think she'd ever been the object of such lust, that just wasn't the way men felt about her, or it just wasn't the style of the kind of men she dated. She had bad luck with men. If they were military, they saw how she was with Mustang and expected her to be supportive and subservient, which wasn't really how she was with Mustang at all but that was between the two of them. If they were civilian, they knew she was in the military and frequently expected her to be controlling or downright domineering. Sure, she enjoyed having control, that could be a fun game to play, but that wasn't how she liked to be all the time. She just wanted to be honest with someone. With Havoc, she was completely unself-conscious. It was so basic. He didn't want her to fill a role or conform to any expectations, he just wanted her for the woman she was. Feeling like a woman was novel in itself these days, since she spent her life trying to fit into a man's world. She and Havoc were already comfortable with each other, so she wasn't going to feel compelled to exhaust herself trying to show him her best side all the time. And the sex, had it ever been so wild before? Had she ever felt so unrestrained? Had she ever made such a ruckus with someone before? She couldn't think of another time when she had ever behaved quite they way she had tonight. Hawkeye crossed her arms over her chest and looked for something to distract her from her thoughts. It was a lovely night, very pleasant out here on the balcony. It over looked a courtyard that was surrounded on three sides by the apartment complex. Below was a garden with a fountain and benches. It was lit at night and countless lights shone from windows in the apartments across the way. Several other residents were out on their balconies enjoying the beautiful night. "Hey, I was serious when I said I'd take you out," Havoc said around his cigarette. "How about Saturday?" She just looked at him, hoping this wasn't some sort of obligatory, post-fuck date offer. "Er, if going out is ok with you, that is," he added. She tapped her fingers on one elbow, unaware of how intimidating she was at the moment. "Are you asking me on a date, or are you asking if I'll go out with you?" she asked. "Yes?" he answered with a boyish grin that made her feel strangely at ease again. "If it's ok. You know, being seen together in public, you and me on a date? You outrank me after all and the brass probably won't appreciate us fraternizing," he said plainly. She looked at him real hard, trying to put her priorities in order. Was sneaking around going to be worth it? She wondered what made it so different with him. The relaxed conversation, how easy it was to stay and not run away, the complete lack of regret. As for sex, he was good, but he wasn't the best she'd had when it came to technique. It was the way he made her feel that was so completely different from anything she'd experienced before. With him there was nothing to prove and nothing at stake, it was simply about being themselves and feeling something together. It was amazingly, gloriously, wonderfully uncomplicated. She stepped onto the balcony, reached over to pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers, and brought it to her lips. She took a long drag and exhaled slowly over their heads. "Havoc," she said, looking him in the eye, "I'm on your balcony in a bathrobe at ten o'clock at night in one of the most populous apartment buildings in Central. It's a little late to be worried about that." "So, Saturday it is," he said with a lopsided grin and stole his cigarette back, the quick movement making Black Hayate jump down. He took a puff as he looked her up and down. "Do I have to promise to keep my hands to myself?" "No, because I don't think I can do likewise." His grin only broadened and he set his cigarette in the ashtray. "Can I convince you to wear a skirt?" Havoc asked as his hands found her hips, "or do I have to beat you at the target range again?" He pulled her into his lap, taking her by surprise and earning the slightest squawk out of her for his efforts. She kicked her legs, trying to right herself as he got one hand into the folds of her robe. "First of all!" she said, voice coming out as more of a high-pitched squeal than she would normally prefer. She managed to sit up, settling sideways on his lap, and batted his roving hand away. "First of all, Lt. Havoc," she repeated a little more respectably, "that was pure luck." "Ouch," he chortled. "And second of all - hey!" she swatted his hand away again and continued, "second of all, I will only wear a skirt of you promise not to open another pack of cigarettes between then and now." He snatched up the pack that he'd left on the metal table beside the chair. "Seven over the next two days," he said in serious deliberation. "Just how short is this skirt?" With her hand, she marked on her thigh where the skirt in questions fell. "I think I can manage that," he said. He tossed the cigarettes back on the table and immediately delved that hand into her robe. "If we're going to date, then I'll warn you that I don't tolerate any fooling around on the side," she informed him. "I heard you discipline harshly," he said, voice a low growl. The hand in her robe caressed over her breast as he leaned over to kiss her neck. "I heard you need it," she retorted smartly, struggling to keep her voice steady. "Hey, I can do monogamy when properly motivated," he insisted and he kissed down to her shoulder, nudging her robe out of the way with his nose. "Oh?" she challenged, "And what, exactly, constitutes proper motivation?" He thought about this as he brushed his lips over her collarbone. "Well, certainly a girlfriend who's got better aim than me with a semi-automatic," he answered as he nipped at her throat and kissed her shoulder. A pithy reply was too much to ask when he was doing that, and besides, if she had opened her mouth, she would have moaned. She was just thinking how frighteningly natural this felt when he stopped abruptly. She opened her eyes. He was looking at her shoulder and frowning slightly. "I don't think that was there before," he said uncomfortably. Hawkeye followed his gaze and found a bruise on her shoulder, and not the hickey kind. She hadn't even noticed it. She raised her eyebrows at him. He sure did look concerned about this. "You can't be serious," she said flatly. He blinked questioning blue eyes at her. She yanked him over her by one side of his bathrobe, effectively pulling it open down to the tie in the process. "Gentlemen are boring," she hissed before lapping at his neck and catching his earlobe between her teeth. She sucked on it and could have smirked when he shivered and closed his eyes. "So don't you ever," she murmured as she continued to bite up his ear, "become a gentleman on me. Is that understood?" She ran one hand down his hard chest to his stomach, fingers pressing into the muscles there, tracing their shape. "Good," he growled in response, hands urgently seeking to touch her again, "because I don't think I can be a gentleman around you." He kissed her fiercely and all but peeled off her robe right there on his balcony. She wanted to slide her hand down, to take hold of his cock, feel his hot length in her hand. She wanted to pull his robe away, climb onto his lap, feel him moving deep inside her again. "You're makin' me crazy," he breathed against her jaw, searing her skin, and she almost straddled him right then and there. She was going to do it unless someone stopped them and since she didn't ever want that to be his job, she forced herself to stop his hands. "We… we shouldn't do this out here," she gulped. Havoc paused, let out a big breath and then took another. "You're right," he admitted regretfully. His normally deft fingers fumbled in protest as he pulled her bathrobe back together to cover her up. She didn't give him the same courtesy, perfectly happy to continue to admire the deep V of his black robe as he sat back in the chair and caught his breath. Without moving from his lap, she brought her knees together and tucked her legs underneath her, trying to quell her acute arousal. Unsteady fingers reached for the cigarette in the ashtray. It was nearly burned down, but there was a little left. She ashed it and took a long drag before passing it to him. "I didn't know you smoked," he said with mild surprise as he took the cigarette. "I used to," she said and wagged an index finger at him, "which is why you have to stop." He chuckled a little after blowing smoke to the side. "You sayin' I'm a bad influence?" he asked, still a little breathless. "The worst," she confirmed. "On all accounts," "When did you used to smoke?" he asked. "Oh, it was a couple years ago," she shrugged. "It got the worst towards the end with Mustang and right after." There was a silence before he said, "You know we have to have the Mustang Conversation eventually," he told her. "Do we have to?" she whined, as much as Riza Hawkeye ever whined about anything. "Yes," he said firmly and kissed her temple, pressing his nose into her blond hair. "We wouldn't have to if someone weren't having an inferiority complex," she said, barely managing not to roll her eyes. "I'm not having an inferiority complex!" Havoc claimed in a tone that didn't do anything to convince anyone. She gave him a look and he squirmed. "Well, let's just say he's stolen more than one girl I've had my eye on over the years," he huffed, and then amended, "Ok, more than five. All right, he'll hit ten before he's thirty if he keeps it up." She shook her head, though she was pleased he could at least have a little bit of a sense of humor about it. "It was over years ago between us," she assured him. "Hey, if you're going to interrogate me, why don't you make something to eat? You promised to feed me," she reminded him. She shifted and put her feet down, testing her legs. She stood and turned to him, offering a hand. "In a minute," he said, taking another puff on the cigarette, "let me finish this, since I'm restricted now." He gave her a wink and a roguish look that was probably supposed to be a smile but more resembled a leer. Hawkeye nodded and went inside, leaving him to finish his cigarette. Black Hayate got up and followed her. She didn't hesitate at all to root through the cupboards for a bowl, though maybe she should have. She located a small bowl and filled it with water before setting it on the floor for her dog. He drank from it and she watched him, musing to herself that he seemed just as at home here. Her newer, human companion lumbered through the door a minute later and joined her in the kitchen. He went to the fridge and checked the contents. "What can I make fast?" he wondered out loud to himself and then asked her, "Do you like eggs?" "An omelet?" she asked. "Negative," he replied from inside the fridge. "Frittata. You like asparagus?" "Sure," she said, though she'd never had any outside of a restaurant. He took out a bunch of asparagus and followed it with an onion, a hard block of cheese, half and half, and butter. "You don't have to go to too much trouble," she told him. "Nah, this is an easy one, trust me," he said as he stood and closed the refrigerator door. "Do you cook?" "I survive," she answered shortly. Havoc eyed her skeptically and stooped to get a pan. "Then why don't you chop?" he suggested when he stood. He picked up the onion, saying, "That way, if you cry while you talk about Mustang, you can blame it on the onion." He tossed her the onion and she caught it in one hand. "Smart ass," she said dryly. She was not going to cry. She snatched up the cutting board and peeled the papery skin off the onion before carefully slicing it. She chopped the onion as he heated butter in a pan and trimmed the asparagus. He looked relaxed, perfectly at home. She could just imagine, if she weren't here, him puttering around this kitchen with a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips. Unlit, of course. Probably. Hopefully. "So how long ago exactly were you and Mustang together?" he asked as he found a knife to cut the asparagus. "Three years ago. It ended shortly after we got to East City," she answered. "Wow," he shook his head, "was I really unobservant or what? You guys really hid it well." "We had to," she said matter-of-factly. "And you're still working for him," Havoc noted. He cracked the eggs into a mixing bowl. "Breaking up didn't mean I don't still care about him," she said. She almost used the word love, because she did still love Roy in a way, but she didn't think that was something she could make Havoc understand just yet. He gave her a look that confirmed her suspicions. "There's history there, we knew each other growing up. It's complicated," she sighed. "Ok, so what happened?" "This is between you me, and the asparagus, got it?" she said, pointing the knife at him. "Yes, yes," he quickly assured her. "Sometimes, getting what you want isn't all it's cracked up to be," she said. "He's… he's got a lot of baggage. Ishbal really messed him up. You know that saying about how you can't truly love someone unless you love yourself? I think he struggled with that. I wanted to help him, you know? Be the woman who understood, the one he could turn to, but that's a two way street. The problem was he didn't want me to. He never let me in that far, he kept me at arms length all the time - emotionally, anyway." Havoc just nodded thoughtfully as he poured whatever he'd mixed up in the bowl into the sizzling pan. "It was a constant frustration. I didn't want to be with him if he was going to treat me like just any other girl. I don't think he even realized he was doing it, I think it was automatic for him…" she sighed again, "I believe in him and I've always really liked working for him. I began to feel like I could do more for him at work most of the time. It became more and more difficult to work with him eight hours a day and then try to understand him the other eighteen. Eventually, I hit my tolerance and so I chose." "You dumped him!" Havoc said. "Well, I wouldn't put it like that," she said distastefully. "You dumped Roy Mustang!" he barked in laughter. "Stop," she admonished, trying hard not smile. Well, that certainly made him happy. "Anyway, we only saw each other for eight months," she said, "the fact that he's never had a relationship longer than that makes me feel either special or stupid, depending on my mood." He laughed and flipped the frittata. He looked at her then and smiled, not a leer or a grin, a real smile. "You might think I'm just saying this, but he's really missing out," Havoc said She turned to the cupboard to look for plates in order to hide the smile that she couldn't stop from spreading over her lips. She couldn't help being attracted to how natural he was. He was the kind of man who said things off the top of his head, and not because he was trying to be charming. His relaxed, off the cuff manner had its own kind of charm, a more genuine charm. Plates successfully located, she set the table for them and he brought the pan over to dish up the frittata. They sat across the small table from one another. "You really are a good cook," she admitted after a few bites. "Well, it was just me and my dad growing up," he shrugged, "someone had to feed us. We'd have either died of food poisoning or starvation if it'd been left it up to him." "Do you bake too?" she asked, making light of his surprising domesticity. "'Course I bake," he scoffed, as if all the unmarried, chain-smoking, male second lieutenants in the State Military were having bake-offs every weekend. "You must cook a lot for girlfriends," she said. "Nah, not really. Girls want to be taken somewhere expensive," he said, "somewhere with candles, snooty waiters, and hand-written menus." She arched an eyebrow at him. "If I may be frank, perhaps your track record should suggest to you that you haven't the slightest clue what it is women actually want," she said. He laughed deeply and shook his head. "Ok, you got me there," he said with a lingering smile. When they were finished, he ran water in the sink with some soap and dumped all the dishes in. She offered to help clean up but he shook his head. He trapped her against the counter and wrapped his arms around her waist. "They'll be fine to soak until tomorrow," he murmured before kissing her. She kissed back and would have lost herself quickly if her dog hadn't started yipping and dancing around their feet. She withdrew regretfully and looked down at the dog. "Do you have anything he can eat?" she asked Havoc, "I was supposed to feed him two hours ago." "I think so," Havoc said. He couldn't quite take his hands off her and pulled her to the fridge with him by her robe. He swung the door open and found a small container. "You are one lucky dog," he said Black Hayate as he kicked the fridge door shut. "Leftover veal cutlet," he announced before removing the lid. Hawkeye just observed silently. Who the heck had veal cutlet just sitting around in their refrigerator? "Now, you better put in a good word for me, understand?" he was saying to the dog. Black Hayate licked his lips and sat patiently on the floor as Havoc put his veal cutlet on a plate and set it down on the floor. "You spoil him. He usually gets chicken, bones and all," Hawkeye remarked. "I know," Havoc muttered. She wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but promptly forgot about it. She went to where she had put her clothes and shook them out. "Aw, you're really gonna leave," he grumbled. He found his pack of cigarettes and plopped down on the couch unhappily. "I should really go - WE should really go," she corrected, looking at Black Hayate. Now perfectly content and full of leftover veal cutlet, the little dog jumped on the couch and curled up. "Hey! I didn't say you could get on my couch!" Havoc exclaimed. The dog lazily opened one eye. Hawkeye smirked. "He'd never do this at my house. He must have decided you're a softie," she said. Havoc grumbled something unintelligible and she smirked again. She found that she did not feel she really needed to be modest even though she knew he was sitting there watching her, unlit cigarette between his lips. She shrugged out of the bathrobe and set it aside before stepping into her panties. She slid them up and strapped on her bra before reaching for the skirt. Havoc watched her wiggle back into the skirt, looking miserable about it. "Oh, man," he groaned as she zipped it up the side. "Now you see why Mustang's Miniskirt Manifesto is such a bad idea!" she exclaimed. "You don't think he'd really do that, do you?" Havoc asked. "I don't know," she laughed a bit, "I wouldn't put it past him. I think if he thought he could get away with it, he'd try it." "Aww, see this is a big problem," Havoc said in a tone suspiciously akin to whining. He put the cigarette down and stood up. "Why?" she asked, straightening up, undershirt in hand. "Because now you're back in the skirt and when you're in the skirt, all I wanna do is get you out of it," he said and caught her hands before she could put on her undershirt. He cupped her face and kissed her in that way that blanked her mind. His hands were in her hair and then on her skirt and then inching it up, gliding underneath. He was kissing her and she didn't even notice he'd slipped her panties off until she felt them fall around her ankles. Riza Hawkeye did eventually end up in her own bed that night. For a couple hours anyway. + The next morning, from the moment he arrived at work, he was looking at her again. She wasn't even wearing the skirt today. Two rounds last night and the look wasn't gone. Why wasn't the look gone? She whacked him lightly on the top of the head with a pen as she walked by, saying, "Knock it off." She unlocked the file cabinet and was bringing the papers to the table when Mustang announced, "Hawkeye, I need you. The rest of you, go find something to do for ten minutes." There were shuffling noises and chairs being pushed in. Hawkeye tried to avoid looking at Havoc since she could feel his urgent "look at me" stare on her shoulder. "Come on, man," Breda was saying, and then she just barely heard him hiss, "I warned you, idiot." She glanced over and saw him pulling Havoc out of his chair and toward the door. The look on Havoc's face was questioning, afraid. After all the things she had told him last night, she hoped his expression was out of concern that Mustang might chew her out than fear that she and Mustang might misbehave while the others stepped out. It better not be the latter, or she was going to beat some sense into him later. "Sir," she said when Breda had finally dragged Havoc from the room and shut the door. Mustang sat serenely at his desk and regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before opening a drawer. He closed it again and wordlessly set something on the desk. Her hair clip. He looked at her and she looked back, trying not to blush or blanch. Colonel Mustang cleared his throat and laced his fingers on the table. "I believe this belongs to you?" he said. "It does, Sir," she said stiffly. "Cut the formal crap, Hawkeye," he sighed, giving her the slight victory. "I know what's going on." "Then excusing them the way you did was unnecessary," she scolded, though she suspected it wouldn't be the last time he'd try to make Havoc jealous for fun. "True, but I couldn't resist," he said unapologetically. "The look on his face was even better than I expected." She gave him a flat stare and he looked slightly more contrite. Well, maybe more guilty than sorry. He cleared his throat again. "So, you dump me for being a playboy and now you're seeing Jean Havoc?" he said. "You know that's not why things didn't work out between us," she said, always careful to avoid that fact that it been she who called it off. "All right, look," he sighed again and stood up. "I'm just concerned about you, ok? You know this is going to be a problem. Official regulations say that if you wish to pursue something like this, one of you should transfer, but it's not like I can fairly force you to do that after what we did." Hawkeye silently thanked him for that. A lot of people wouldn't hesitate to call Roy Mustang a hypocrite and he could be when he had to be or was forced to be, but left to his own devices he was more fair than most people would assume. "Besides, I don't want to give either of you up," he said, rubbing his chin with a gloved hand. "The two of you have been with me the longest and I intend to keep you. So, we'll pretend like nothing is going on, yes?" So maybe a date Saturday was out of the question. She didn't foresee any trouble convincing Havoc to stay in. This probably would have been the time to tell Mustang that they might have been seen on the balcony last night, but she declined and just let him continue. "Of course, I will have to insist that everything remain… professional in the work place," he said, reaching for the hair clip, "especially if things come to an unfortunate end, understand? Do you think you can do that?" He held the clip out to her and she took it. "I understand," she said. "Though I suppose I should be having this conversation with him instead of you since I already know you are capable of all that," he said ruefully. "Roy…" she sighed. It wasn't like she'd broken his heart. No, that would have been impossible since he never gave it to her. For whatever reason, it always seemed hard for him when she was seeing someone but she'd never seen him this bad before. "You're not going to lose me," she told him, trying to make it very clear. The corners of his mouth quirked into a thin-lipped smile and he looked down at the desk. She knew he didn't like to be caught with emotions so plainly visible. "All right, go get him and bring him in here," Mustang said finally. Hawkeye left to go find Havoc, thinking he was probably outside and concerned that he may have smoked all seven of his allotted cigarettes by now.
He couldn't help worrying that she was making a big mistake and he was making a second by letting her, but the truth was that Havoc was a good man underneath it all. He was loyal and responsible, and Roy hoped he would be just as loyal to Riza. She deserved it. Besides, if Havoc ever hurt Riza, Roy could just roast him. After this conversation, he had decided to go laissez-faire and simply hope it didn't blow up in his face. Not meddling wasn't typically his style, but they were adults, they should be able to handle this kind of thing. The worst that could happen was that it ended up ugly and they acted childish about it. If that happened, he'd simply ridicule and punish them until they saw how stupid they were being, and then everything could go back to normal. That was the plan. If the worst didn't happen, then he might have to rethink the plan. A marriage would be harder to hide. No, they could hide that, it would be the children that would be difficult. He stopped himself. No, wait. This was perfect. Why had he never thought of this before? He could BREED THEM! He could breed his entire staff! All the children would swear their allegiance to him! He could breed a little army of followers! It would take time, but he was a patient man. He would rise in rank and his staff would increase even more, it was pure genius! For now, all he had to do was find three more women…
If you're wondering about the chicken bone thing, you need to rewatch ep. 37. =p |
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