Setting: None.

Sch-warning: Nothing bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own crap.

Author's Notes: I've been writing a whole lot of angst lately and quite frankly it's disgusting me. I hate angst. But, I need to relieve stress from school, so here ya go. My extremely shitty fic. I'm disappointed in myself. I'm not sure whether Riza is out of character or not. I believe she is. Wrote this to Prince's "Little Red Corvette". Funny. I loathe Prince. Oh, sweet irony.

Feedback: Make me happy and review.


Sometimes, she hated the way he made her feel.

Riza Hawkeye came to this conclusion while on a date with another man. He was nice enough, but she couldn't find herself having a good time because of her feelings for her superior. At the end of the date, she told the man that she had a good time but wasn't interested and quickly parted ways.

Her next destination was predictable.

She walked down the familiar street of the city, her sights keenly on the apartment building on the corner. Riza had driven him home on more than one occasion and knew where he lived, even his apartment number. She entered the building quickly, rushing up the stairs to the third floor where he lived. Her pace slowed as she walked down the hall, his door staring at her mockingly.

Riza approached the door, her shaking hand rising. She halted. How did she even know he was home? Knowing her colonel, he was probably some girl's apartment, having his way with her. For the sake of telling her conscious that she tried, her hand knocked against the door.

Silence.

She was about to leave when the door opened. He stood there, his white shirt opened and a half gone glass of scotch in his hand, surprised. Riza bit back her emotions; she hated how he sent shivers down her spine, how he melted her knees, and how he mentally turned her back into a sixteen year old girl.

She gritted her teeth and did the first thing that came to mind.

Smack!

His head remained in the same position for a moment, stunned, when she turned away, her golden hair veiling her face. She walked away quickly; she was acting very uncharacteristically, but she didn't care.

"Riza, wait!"

She ignored his calls, continuing to walk away as she heard his footsteps approach her. His hand grabbed her petite arm, stopping her.

"Please let me go, sir."

"Like hell! You come to my apartment, bother me in the middle of the night, slap me, and then plan on going home without an explanation?"

"I'm sorry, sir, please let me go."

His grip on her remained. He pulled her body towards him, her front facing him.

"Riza, look at me, damnit!"

Her copper eyes stared back at his opaque ones, misty.

"I hate how you make me feel! I hate you make me want you! I hate how I can't even go on a date with a man without thinking about you! I hate it, Roy, I hate it!"

His fingers gently traced her trembling jaw line, the corners of his mouth pulling to form a faint smile.

"But you don't hate me, do you?"

She had opened her mouth in order to retort, but found she was at a loss of words. Instead, she nodded yes.

"Good."

He brought her lips to his own, locking them in an embrace.

Sometimes, she hated the way he made her feel.

But, once in awhile, it was nice.


Fin.