Work Text:
Thin streams of sunlight pierced into his office, illuminating the daunting stack of paperwork currently residing on Roy Mustang's desk. After dealing with the Homunculi, General Mustang was committed to reforming the military and the country from the inside: starting with rebuilding Ishval. The extermination of the Ishvalian race was a tragedy, and Roy wanted to prevent any commotions for the future generations. His lack of patience with paperwork was interfering with his reformation, however.
Light clacking sounds emanated from the desk beside him, pulling him out of his idealistic dream. Riza. Riza Hawkeye. She would follow him into hell if he asked her to. She would give her life for his in the blink of an eye. She meant everything to him, yet he would never admit it. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he gazed into her rich, brown eyes; and she glanced over at him.
"What are you doing, sir? That document is needed by 3 o'clock, plus file #30098 needs to be signed for your next meeting," Riza reminded him, subtly nudging his elbow.
"I'm just thinking, Lieutenant," he replied,"Just thinking."
She accepted his weak remark and began typing again. Golden hair showered her shoulders, blue uniform clad onto her figure, and two standard issue pistols stuck out from beneath her jacket. Those pistols had killed God knows how many people, yet her face was as impassive as always. The war had changed them both, hundreds of innocents had died at their hands: her with a sniper, him with his flames. It was almost poetic. Almost.
Deciding to forget about his paperwork, Roy jumped up from his desk, walked to the door, and was abruptly stopped by an angry, glaring Hawkeye.
"Where are you going, sir?" she asked, in a dangerously low voice.
"Um...I was just taking a break...?" was his meagre remark, sweat beginning to form on his forehead.
"Sir, you understand that by procrastinating, you are also halting the advances of this country, you could easily..." Roy tuned out her voice, in favour of gazing at her for the fifth time that day. Her empowering speech was completely lost on him at that time; his shoulders relaxing at her enthusiastic nature, and her clear, entrancing voice.
"Riza", he began,"I've known you for the better part of 15 years, and all you talk about is duty and honour. Maybe, maybe just once, you could forget about the government, forget about everything; and just relax- here with me?" he suggested.
"Honestly Roy, you don't think I've noticed how many times you've been staring at me all day? I understand that you want me to let loose, your goal may even be to get me intoxicated, but work comes first."
"I couldn't even entrance you with...a bottle of the Lagavulin 1909?"
And that is how, in 2 short hours, a General and a Lieutenant drunkenly stumbled down the street at midday, passers-by shooting them the dirtiest looks. They couldn't care less- they were happy, for once.