Sorry for any OOCness. First time writing for this fandom, and it usually takes me a few tries to get a good grasp of the characters.

Written for a fanfic challenge on Livejournal.

Just a little drabble.

I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

This takes place after chapter 7 of the manga. Unsure which episode, because I'm an idiot and don't have it downloaded.

"Are you all right?" The question was spoken nearly coldly, but if one listened carefully enough, and knew the speaker well, they could detect a hint of concern.

"Yes," came the quick reply, the second speaker obviously wanting her to leave him alone.

"You sure you're not hurt?"

"Yes. I'm fine," the reply was strong. Pause. "Ow! Don't push so hard!" and now the same strong voice was whining.

"I thought you said you weren't hurt." She was teasing him, now.

"If I am, I don't need you taking care of me." Pause. "Unless you're wearing a mini-skirt."


"Ow! That hurt!"

Riza Hawkeye glared at Roy Mustang venomously.

"Ow," he moaned again, rubbing his now-red cheek.

Her eyes softened a little, before she headed for the door.

Roy shifted uncomfortably. "The pie and the hot chocolate ... You didn't have to bring them. I just hit my head, didn't actually fight or anything."

She stopped at the door, and looked at him, smiling a little when she saw his eyes were on the ground and his cheeks were tinted a pale red.

"You're welcome," she said, catching the thank you. "I should've brought them anyway. You wouldn't have hit your head if it weren't for me..."

"It's okay," he said, catching the apology. "I probably would've been dead if it weren't for you. Uhm ... I guess I really am useless when it's raining, huh?"

She turned to the door. "You're only useless when it comes to women, you know that?"

He grinned, and though she couldn't see it with her eyes, she knew he was.

"So, will you..."

She cut him off. "I'm not going to wear a mini-skirt to work tomorrow," she said sharply, opening the door and leaving his small apartment.

Roy didn't know what scared him more. The fact that she hadn't pulled her gun on him, or the fact that he could've sworn he saw a smile on her lips as she left.

Con Crit more than welcome. Flames will be mocked.