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myrhymesarepurer · 1 year

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Lavender Bergamot Something-or-Other

Pairing: Royai, Roy Mustang x Riza Hawkeye, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood Rating: G and lovely and sweet Words: 5,109 Readable after the break or on my ao3.

Summary: FMAB, East Command

Rebecca placed the pretty little package, wrapped in brown paper and twine in Riza’s hand. Unwrapped, it revealed a simple bar of scented soap: lavender bergamot something or other.

“I’m hoping this would inspire you to…branch out, meet more people.”

“I meet plenty of people.”

“Okay, when I say people, I mean a man, Riza, a partner - a romantic one - that’s not in the military, not an asshat, and preferably not your boss”

Riza hid her smirk in her tea. However much Riza liked to tease Rebecca, her honest take on such relationships was rather bleak. After all, even dressed up with all the bells and whistles,

How many fine gentlemen would realistically stay after I can remember the face of every person I’ve ever killed? --

“Lieutenant, did you…” the Colonel finally looked at Riza for the first time that morning and then blinked, “This is going to sound quite strange and I know that, yet it continues to bother me” “Yes, Sir?” “Did you change your soap?”

----

a/n

This is me working on a 100 page monster chapter every day, getting weary, and trying to write something tender and not as demanding without freaking out about phrasing or contractions and turning it into a hollywood Epic.

I also always admired every time Hawkeye might be considered slightly insubordinate in the name of schooling Mustang back into shape, Roy stares at her with heart-eyes

(i.e “stay here, so if anything happens you can get out” “no” “okay, will you stay here if i promise to come back?” “yup, happy hunting, sir”)

Enjoy my daydreaming.

Readable after the break or on my ao3.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It was pretty clear to most that Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye wasn’t a vain woman. She didn’t spend much too long on her outward appearance. That wasn’t to say she didn’t have to resist a most human glance in the little mirror above her key hook on the way out of her flat. In those moments when she did look, she bit her lip, narrowed her eyes, and tilted her head.

The traces of mascara she had applied, barely a brush of blush and a swipe of lip balm - she clocked each one and paused every time in doubt. Riza could never decide if she was naturally pretty enough to put so little work into this kind of thing. But, after the second she spent in the mirror passed, Riza concluded that she supposed she didn’t care. Things like these were ultimately useless.

If she had an opinion, Riza would say there wasn’t much to improve, even if she put a good half hour into the process. Every morning, she showered. She brushed her hair. She fussed over her bangs some but had more at less gotten it down to a science. The rest of it all consisted of practically superfluous details for which she was never sure why she wasted even the mere thirty seconds on the ritual that she did. Sure, sure, Riza could see some “prettiness” in her face, usually brought to her attention by Rebecca Catalina right after her friend decided to begin gushing about a new beauty trend over their weekend lunches, and right before Rebecca executed her grand scheme to push said new beauty trend upon her.

Riza was never interested. Yet, she was happy to hear her friend ramble about something other than Jean Havoc or work or Jean Havoc at work. Grimmly, Riza assumed that she had maintained what delicate features she had through her age simply because she was a sharpshooter, positioned high and at a distance, removed from the blood and the sand and the wind and the fire. Still, Riza was never one to ponder any significant…additions to her routine, no matter how popular or what lovely hypothetical Rebecca attempted to spin. “Oh, but Riza, you’d look so lovely in this shade. This gold shimmer is meant precisely for your eye color.” Rebecca showcased that particular item as if she was the saleswoman herself, “It’s a real head turner, nearly an instant hot date.” “Hot date, right,” Riza said suspiciously batting away Rebecca’s hand reaching across the table, and attempting to apply the glistening powder. Considering the way her finger was traveling, this product was meant to be applied directly to one's eyeball. Rebbeca scrunched her nose, most displeased and snapped the little case shut after Riza successfully flinched away from her assault. “I don’t think that’s for me.” “Oh, you’re no fun.” Riza chuckled dryly, “I just don’t see the point. I spend most of my days buried in paperwork or covered in dog fur. ” Rebecca’s bright green eyes narrowed then she shrugged so nonchalantly chalant “Well, of course, I would hope the shimmer would inspire you to…branch out.” Riza saw this as an opportunity to deliberately ignore her friend’s point, “I suppose the color does match my uniform - blue and gold”

“Ha-ha,” Rebecca glared. Riza hid her small smirk in her tea as Rebecca ignored Riza’s rebuffs and continued to insist. “No, I meant a night out. You know, dress up, go to a nice place.” “I go out sometimes” “When?” “Well, we’re having lunch right now, aren’t we?” “Riza, I’m here out East every other week. You need to meet more people.” Riza crinkled her eyebrows, and tirelessly dodged once more, “I meet plenty of people.” Rebecca tirelessly advanced, just the same, “Okay, when I say someone I mean a man, Riza, a suitor.” Riza put a finger on her lip, hummed, and sounded out the word, “Sui-tor” Rebecca clearly, at that point, had enough of little miss Riza Hawkeye’s signature teasing and simply got straight to the point with frightening clarity, “Yes, a partner, a romantic one. That’s not in the military, not an asshat, and preferably not your boss.” “Ah,” Riza hid her smirk in her tea once more, “There it is. Rebecca Catalina’s famous conspiracy theory.”

Riza need not elaborate any further for Rebecca to know she was going to get absolutely nowhere on that point. Just like every other time she dared to make such an assumption.

“You’re incorrigible,” Rebecca threw her hands up and surrendered the little powder case to the depths of her purse in defeat, “and you work too much, and you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life.”

Riza snickered, reached down, and pet the pup at her feet, “That’s alright. Hayate will keep me company.” “Riza, come on. I’m trying to help.” “Fine,” Riza huffed, “I appreciate your love and concern, Rebecca. You know I do. But, you said it yourself. I work too much.” “Heavens, she admits it,” Rebecca feigned a gasp. “Moreover, I’m a twenty-something war veteran and not terribly easy to get along with. Who’s head am I supposed to be turning that would actually be interested past the gold dust and the red lipstick?” Rebecca was the one to pick up her tea at this point. She had smiled softly, and exhaled a small laugh, but across the table, Riza watched her lined and shadowed doe eyes sadden quite quickly. Riza didn’t mean to bring the mood down. She knew how sympathetic Rebecca was about the fact that out of all the cadets in their academy class, Riza was the one plucked straight from the shooting range and shipped out to the war front - alone. Riza never wanted her dear friend to waste her valuable energy feeling bad about something completely out of her control. Yet, however much Riza liked to tease Rebecca, what she said then was her honest take on such relationships - period. In the end, not only did her appearance have little real value or longevity, but Riza felt as if dressing up like that was brilliant bait in a sick trap meant to catch a well-meaning fellow unawares. Theoretically, let’s say she pulled out all the stops, the bells, and the whistles - If she gave in and let Rebecca dress her up like Riza knew she secretly had always wanted, and as a result, had a line of suitors forming outside her flat: How many of those fine gentlemen would realistically stay after I can remember the face of every person I’ve ever killed? Alright, perhaps that was too macabre. Yet, unfortunately, it was truly Riza Hawkeye’s reality. Work was really the only thing she felt she had actual potential, credible use. After all, civil war changes quite a bit of the most appealing qualities in a young woman her age. So, why waste time on all the trappings in an attempt to hide her damage? She, herself, was certainly more or less ambivalent about it all. And, in the process, she could justify her abundant lack of effort in her appearance and social life with the noble notion of saving every potentially interested, well-meaning, whole and healed fellow from a lot of wasted time. That being said, just like her fleeting seconds in the mirror at her door, Riza’s reality never truly eliminated her ever-so-small human desire to be considered pretty - or something. By someone, maybe anyone other than Rebecca who perhaps told her so too many times and had a touch too much allegiance to Riza to be considered strictly unbiased. However silly and pointless of a wish it was, Riza found it irritatingly impossible to be rid of entirely. So, she kept the needless notion’s nagging at bay with the daily flick of mascara, and brush of blush, and swipe of lip balm, so on and so forth. It was one particular weekend lunch when Rebecca had just returned from a spell in Aerugo that she unveiled her best bet at snagging Riza’s interest. It was a pretty little package, wrapped in brown paper and twine. After Rebecca’s valiant pitch, she ultimately revealed her newest endorsement to be for a simple bar of scented soap: lavender bergamot something or other. “I felt that I should perhaps approach pampering on your terms,” Rebecca said kindly, unwrapping Riza’s gift for her “Just use this in the shower.” Riza weighed the small, smooth purple block in her palm before bringing it up to her nose to test the scent. Surprisingly, it was lovely. In fact, Riza had never really thought a scent could be so lovely…maybe she was much less experienced in all this than she thought.

“Hm,” Riza responded, to which Rebecca grinned, utterly ecstatic, “Yes!! That was a resounding Riza Hawkeye response of approval if there ever was one.” As instructed by the guru herself, Riza did use the soap during her morning shower the next day, took her time, and enjoyed the scent. It caused no delay to her routine and provided something calming and charming about her morning. All and all, it was a success. Sure, it was a temporary pleasure that had no real long-term effect. But, it was simply the enjoyment of the thing that pleased Riza. Not to mention, this sort of item didn’t feel like some kind of crude mask for her baggage and war wounds and glaring flaws, nor a clever type of bait with which she meant to lure in someone clueless to buy her dinner when she’d really rather be home. After all, who would notice a change in soap? In the end, the luxury was only for her, and, to her surprise, she was happy with it. Then she arrived at the office. There wasn’t anything particularly different about that day, nor particularly unpleasant. Their routine proceeded how it would every morning. It was only that the Colonel would behave perfectly predictably, then would take a sharp turn in another direction, a turn of which Riza couldn’t quite interpret. It began right when the door opened, the Colonel entered, nodded at her “Good Morning, Lieutenant”, and began some sentence that sounded awfully important until he walked by her desk..and froze.

“Sir?” Riza asked, pen paused on her paper, watching him expectantly. At the sound of her voice, Roy flinched, turned his head to look down at her, seated at her desk, for a touch too long, shook away whatever stopped him, and proceeded to his own chair.

This would have been rather insignificant if moments of this nature did not keep occurring. There was next a moment in which Riza delivered another stack of papers to the corner of his desk, and the Colonel almost instantly pushed his chair away in the opposite direction, only inches but the move was noted with a squeak of the wheels. Colonel Mustang, of course, tried very cunningly to play it off and sweep it under the rug, but Riza was much too quick to be fooled and right away concluded that she was the common thread. He received memos from the other men just fine, and took the long way around to the front doors without freezing. Riza was positively certain of her accuracy when she was required to spend a prolonged amount of time in front of his desk due to the full packet of forms he had spent all morning completing…incorrectly. Riza had tabbed all the pages and lined items he needed to amend, reviewed them verbally quite quickly, gave a polite and hasty lecture of sorts on their crucial need for meticulousness, returned to him for a response, and received …zero feedback. Given, The Colonel was staring in her direction, but definitely not directly at her or even at the thick pile of forms he would have to redo. It was almost as if he could suddenly see right through her, his eyes glazed over and glancing here and there as if he was trying to place the source of her voice, but wasn’t quite sure where to start. It was finally when she knew the Colonel had come to and locked with her eyes again that he shook his head as he did before, swallowed, and said “Absolutely, right away, Lieutenant,” as if Roy Mustang was more than pleased to do hours worth of work all over again. Hawkeye, naturally, couldn’t help but be concerned. However, procrastination, daydreaming, and the like weren’t necessarily out of character for the Colonel. Plus, Riza didn’t have much time to investigate any further as it was obvious his chronic inattentiveness was causing an even greater productivity problem than normal. Come noon and their team was hours behind and she and her superior were running late to the biweekly admin meeting with the Investigations department.

To begin with, the Colonel hated these meetings, dull and long and full of data. Riza already had to shoulder most of the work and field most of the questions during this particular appointment. Yet, with nearly one hundred percent of the Colonel’s brain power (and, frankly, competency) being siphoned to some unknown location all morning, Riza knew she couldn’t even miss a minute or they were in deep, deep shit. And, that’s how she ended up barreling down the hall of headquarters, Colonel in tow close behind. Riza was only feet from the elevator, and one small lift ride to the first floor when the Colonel revealed that not only was his attention lacking that day, but also his judgment which was altogether painfully inconvenient for his adjutant. “Lieutenant,” he said abruptly, falling out of line with her, instead parting sideways toward the wall, “Let’s take the stairs.” “But, Sir-” Riza glanced desperately at the hall clock. They did not have time for six flights of stairs. Yet, he bit an urgent, “Now” without giving her another glance, an order she couldn’t just ignore outright. Riza huffed and followed suit, rushing behind him down one flight of stairs and onto the next one until he snatched her arm and pulled her to a sudden stop on the landing.

“Sir, what-” Once again, Colonel Mustang took a forced step, or two steps, backward before interrupting, “Lieutenant.” He still didn’t look at her, instead checked the door above and below them - closed and without any sign of opening. “Yes?” She prompted him. “Did you…” He finally looked at her and then blinked, “This is going to sound quite strange and I know that, yet it continues to bother me.” Something in Riza began to panic. If this was actually a medical issue, she really should have quit worrying so much about paperwork and addressed his well-being much earlier. Almost instantly she started to head back up the stairs, “Are you alright, Sir? We should take you to the infirmary, Colonel-”

Again he grabbed her arm to halt her, and smiled reassuringly when he exhaled, “No no, I’m well. I just-” Then he froze again. She interrupted him right away this time.

“Yes, Sir?” “You…smell different.” Riza blinked. Roy had grimaced out his thought and as a result, she stared at him, dumbfounded. They proceeded to stare at each other until Riza realized once more he hadn’t been running on enough processing power to follow up. If they were meant to get to this meeting on time, now preferably, she needed to drive the conversation.

So, she cleared her throat and did her best. “Are you actively smelling me, Colonel? “See, I didn’t think so then-” he lifted a finger and faded off again, luckily catching himself more or less right away “Did you change your soap?”

Oh. Riza, in one breath, remembered her shower that morning and instantly regretted humoring Rebecca at all with whatever silly ideas she had about pampering or turning heads or pretty- what the hell was she thinking? She was so stupid, so stupid. How utterly humiliating.

Throughout the morning he kept stepping away from her, focusing on something other than her, and that clearly indicated that her experience in this realm was so subpar that the soap actually smelled terrible, making the Colonel want to leave altogether. At that moment, for the two steps Roy had taken back all morning, she took four more for good measure. Consequentially, this placed the two of them one landing apart, she on the level they started, and he on the one just below. Perhaps an overcompensation, in retrospect. Roy fought off the instinct to laugh in an inelegant jerk. His eyebrows raised high when he casually posed the question, “Whatever are you doing up there, Lieutenant?” What the hell did he mean by that? Riza clenched her jaw. Hadn’t he been moving away all morning? “You said you were,” Riza winced a little, “smelling me, Sir? I figured-” “So, you did change your soap or-”

“Yes, Sir, I did.” She swallowed, tucked the stack of folders she carried into her chest, “Rebecca gifted it to me yesterday after she returned from her trip…to Aerugo.” Riza held her breath. “Right,” he nodded, swallowed, “It’s um-”

It was at that moment Riza, sufficiently mortified, suspected perhaps Rebecca was playing some cruel practical joke on her to enact revenge on her beauty products scorned. “Some mix of flower or spice. I wouldn’t know as that’s not my area of expertise,” Riza rushed through and topped her explanation off with a most uncharacteristically unsure, “I liked it at the time, but….” Roy simply nodded again and took in the information, however slowly. Flower…and spice. Well, yes, of course, she liked it. It was nigh intoxicating. Roy wouldn’t be surprised if there was some kind of witchcraft in that stuff. When Roy looked up, somehow his Lieutenant had gotten even closer to the door above, and though the distance was much better for his train of thought, he realized she had the wrong idea altogether when she said “I can change it if it’s irritating you-” “No, no” Roy began his response, not knowing how to end it. Instead, he waved his arm toward him, “Lieutenant, just - get back down here, please.” Riza did ask as she was asked, and of course, the heavenly scent got heavier, and his head got cloudier. But, the Colonel thought it more important the Lieutenant did not get the ungodly impression that he didn’t want her near at all. In fact, it was very radically the opposite, “I was just meaning to say that. It’s..pretty.” Riza flinched at the word, “Pretty?”

Frozen in front of her, Roy reeled through the dictionary in his head as fast as he could, searching for words he could say that would sound the least creepy. It was more difficult than he would have liked. Given, every thought process he tried to execute today was just a little, or a lot, harder so close to her. It was as if her new soap had single-handedly shattered through the very intricate, professional veil he placed over every other feature he would usually admire about Riza. Roy could admit he had gotten pretty good at it - ignoring his Lieutenant’s beauty. Most of the time, he would only have to combat one or two distractions from her direction. But, today, one step too close to her and his mind was flooded with this intoxicating flower, or spice, or something or other followed by each tiny little detail he found attractive in her - which was basically everything about her physical or otherwise - in one massive haul. It was simply tragic for his productivity level, and he could tell Riza was having to pick up the slack for his weakness. Maybe, he should ask her to stop using it, Roy thought, even at the detriment of his own quality and quantity of Riza-themed daydreams. But, before he could suggest so, the amount of time he had spent attempting to think had stretched on for far too long. So, he accidentally just blurted out exactly what he thought, “I like it,” His smile was most honest, “it suits you.” “Ah,” Riza nodded carefully, “It suits me.”

She still seemed unconvinced. Roy masked his floundering with a shrug like this was all nothing and he wasn’t desperate to explain himself in a way that didn’t divulge just how intricate his daydreams were becoming as a result of this inebriating combination of flower or spice or soap or whatever. “It’s lovely and you’re lovely, Lieutenant. It matches you…is what I mean.” He winced ever so slightly again, “Does that suffice?” It was a moment before an extremely timid smile finally blossomed on Riza’s lips, her eyes softening in a way that made Roy only want to move closer. “Yes, Sir. It does, and thank you” Roy was still a touch worried he’d scared her stiff until her small smile slide into a tentative smirk of sorts, “Ever unconventional, Colonel. I don’t imagine any other superior is commenting on their subordinates’ soap of choice.” Of course, Riza, here, meant any member of their unit. The Colonel, of course, didn’t take it that way. “Right, well I consistently bend the rules for you, don’t I?” he went ahead and took the next flight of stairs. This time, Riza was quick to catch up, stop and scold him before they got anywhere near another door, “Colonel, I would not recommend bending any rules for anyone.” “I thought you’ve come to expect it, Lieutenant.” “Expect it?” Riza balked, and pointedly lowered the volume of their conversation, “Sir, I certainly don’t expect any special treatment nor know why I would.”

Roy then scoffed, inhaled too much of whatever it was, and took one more step down before calling her out “Oh, come now, Hawkeye, of course, you do. How else would you be allowed to give those incorrigible lectures you like so much?”

Riza huffed and rolled her eyes, exasperated by not only the Colonel’s wild accusations but his utter disregard for the very public place in which he dared to make them, “Sir, if you really insist on not hearing my recommendations, you can always order me to-” “Oh, never.” Roy threw away the suggestion “Wouldn’t dream of it, Lieutenant” “Sir?” Riza pleaded for clarity. “Well, frankly, I usually deserve them, and, personally,” Roy risked taking one step up closer to her, leaning in and grinning, “I like your lectures too.” Then. he. winked. Riza froze and she was sure she made a face because the smirk Roy was giving her only became more and more pleased. Such a shit-eating grin could have also been a side effect of the blush Riza could feel spreading across her nose and cheeks. It took Riza everything in her to squelch the stupid butterflies fluttering in her stomach and regain control over the situation, retake her role in their partnership - however many allowances the Colonel was supposedly making for her for whatever silly reasons he kept strictly to himself until the most inopportune moments. At least he had pulled her into an empty stairwell, Riza reluctantly bristled, willingly and deliberately ignoring the fact that any officer of any rank could have walked in on his most imprudent and irrelevant confessions at any point in time. “We have a meeting to attend, Colonel,” Riza stood her ground. “Right,” Roy, considering the bone-dry meeting they had in store for them downstairs, thought better about continuing forward without another sample of Riza’s soap of heavenly witchcraft. “After you, Lieut-” “No,” she abruptly, defiantly. Roy raised an eyebrow. What was she saying about not expecting his special treatment? Certainly, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, nor Falman would dream of interrupting him, much less telling him no so emphatically and living very long to tell the tale. And, yet, here he was damn near charmed she accidentally gave him an order. “After you, Sir. I can’t risk you smelling me any more than necessary.” Roy’s sunshine grin slowly spread across his handsome face. “Shame, really.”

—--

Once finally released from the clutches of the Investigations department, Riza and her Colonel once again opted for the stairs back up to their office. “How was that meeting for you, Colonel?” Riza flipped through her folder, outline after outline, page after page, “Did you need further clarification on any particular bullet point?” Riza asked this partially because she was genuinely hoping her superior had at least attempted to follow the three-hour appointment, regardless of how dry or tedious or however easy it was to simply lean on his overachieving adjutant. Yet, at the same time, Riza purposefully inquired in vain simply because she already knew the Colonel had done quite the undesirable opposite, for the whole damn sitting. The creeping and most objectively disappointing suspicions Riza Hawkeye had begun to form after her last impromptu stairwell conversation with the Colonel were outright confirmed when Roy led her up another flight mumbling something like, “Oh, wonderful. Went wonderfully. Lovely meeting. Very pretty meeting. Beautiful.” Upon the next doorless landing, Riza snagged the fabric at his elbow tight and cut in a near whisper, “So, this is the reason you’ve been daydreaming and slacking off all day - my choice of soap, Colonel?” Roy’s jaw went ever so slack as he asked dumbly, “Oh, you’ve noticed that, have you?” His Lieutenant gave him a searing look that told Roy not only had she noticed, but as a result, his dreaming had increased her personal workload tenfold, twelvefold, and again ten times over. Roy winced a little, utterly caught, because that same treacherous glare also made it clear that she knew that he knew his dalliances had increased her workload tenfold, twelvefold, and again ten times over. And, yet the Colonel had continued to indulge himself in whatever it was he found more interesting at her most visible expense. Riza snatched the sad excuse of a notepad from the Colonel’s hands and flipped it to read his collections from the meeting just concluded. As suspected, the page was filled with quite a few spirals, and squiggles, and tucked in the corner was the scribbled word, Lavender? Riza blinked, and realized she should have taken the seat opposite from him at that long conference table rather than the one directly at his side, “Should I ask what is so captivating about flowers and spices, Colonel?”

Roy’s smirk was a touch too dangerous, however much he attempted to contain it, “I think you are far too clever for such a question, Lieutenant. Flowers and spices are plenty captivating.”

The Catalina-declared asshat even dared to inch much too close to her, then proceeded to wink knowingly. Again.”Such lovely, pretty things, after all”

Riza took a measured two steps back on the landing. feeling oh-so light-headed. Yet, she grit her teeth resolutely and resisted her damned blush as if her life depended on it, “That is that then. I will be changing my soap, Colonel. I will not enable you on whatever escapades you have unfolding in your head whilst I am out here in the real world, picking up your slack and chaperoning your unruly behavior.”

Riza couldn’t decide whether to rage or swoon every time he smiled at her like that, much less winked. And, frankly, the paradox put her on edge and made an adversary out of her that Riza was certain the Colonel would grow regret. Her Colonel, in an appropriate response, sighed heavily, turning and trudging upwards once more. Riza followed at a safe distance. “Very well, Lieutenant. Forgive me, truly. Today was simply a much too blissful reprieve from the normal daydreams. You know, blood and sand and gunshots. Fire. All that terrible nonsense.” Riza stopped cold on their ascent. It took Roy but a moment to notice her stillness before he turned, gripped the railing, and titled his head in question. He expected a lashing to be honest when he stopped to face her. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised to see Riza stuck between a grimace and a smile as if she was trying too hard to fight off a snicker that would be ill-placed with any other company, “Sir, are you sincerely using your post-traumatic flashbacks as a tactic to manipulate the type of soap I use?” He exhaled a small laugh and shook his head, “As a manipulation tactic, no, Lieutenant, never. As an explanation why I so prefer the soap you use now, I suppose so.” Riza watched his eyes soften and sadden from her steps below him. Roy smiled despite the demons looming in the far beyond, “And, only because I know you would understand what I mean.”

Roy watched Riza’s brilliant brown eyes blink into such impossible tenderness, of which he knew they were so consistently capable.

For her scolding and lectures and structure and rigidity, his Lieutenant was certainly regarded as an expert. She mindfully kept their unit in line while Roy foolishly daydreamed pulling her aside, tucking his nose into her neck, and holding her close, hand on the small of her back, and staying there for however long she might allow. In that same vein, Hawkeye could have chastised him, criticized, judged, and condemned him. He certainly earned it here, Roy could admit, for more than one reason, practical, moral, or otherwise.

Yet the Colonel knew that his Lieutenant would understand, against all odds. For her kindness and gentleness and compassion, Riza was matched by none. It was the very sacred piece of her person that the lavender bergamot something or other reflected most genuinely for him. “I will save it for special occasions then, Colonel” Riza resolved, her heart perhaps skipping one beat too many in their moment of harmony there on the stairs, in the quiet. She resisted the reflection on her most human fear. After all, how many fine gentlemen would realistically stay after I can remember the face of every person I’ve ever killed? Riza Hawkeye swallowed the knowledge that despite Rebecca’s protests on the matter, she had always known only one person, one suitor, who would have always stayed a moment longer past that ugly confession. Perhaps even one or two more horrible truths after, finishing dinner with her and coaxing her drifting mind back from their heavy and harrowing past, sand and ink and all, to snicker about something simple and silly in the present.

Riza sighed, smiled gently, and rolled her eyes at her Colonel’s obnoxiously charming smirk of pure satisfaction. It was a victory she was willing to concede. She proceeded up the steps toward the next flight, pointedly staying in front of him. “You are a saint, Hawkeye,” he exhaled, following close behind. “Well, I do bend the rules for you quite often, don’t I, Sir?” she said softly. “Oh yes, Lieutenant” he grinned and took a deep breath of lavender bergamot bliss, “I’ve humbly come to expect it.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- a/n I took a shower with a new soap bar from Lush, heard these sweet idiots flirting in my head, and they wouldn’t shut up until I finished this. It was a nice break, but back to Four tomorrow. dfsjdg;lksjdg; lsagj;saldjgal P.S. I very much like the headcanon that I have now that if Roy is having a particularly difficult day, Riza will purposefully take her leave and go to the gun range for the only purpose to be able to shower with her soap and return to the office. She walks in, sits down, maybe her long hair down, air drying. Roy would instantly be cured and say something like “Thank you, Lieutenant.” without being prompted. Havoc or whoever else present would give them both a look, reasonably confused and insist he elaborate. Riza would say nothing. Roy would be already too far gone to do anything but look up and mumble,, “Hm? Oh…Did I say something?” I’m so proud I didn’t turn that head canon into a 30 page novel, aren’t you? I swear tg, I’m the fucking worst.

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