Disclaimer- I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Hawkeye asked skeptically.

Mustang cast a single helpless glance towards her. "What can I do? The Fuhrer has given us the okay. I guess I'll just have to try and go easy on the kid." He responded easily, shrugging his shoulders and checking his gloves.

"Are you worried?" the Lieutenant questioned, raising an eyebrow. "After all, Edward is-"

"Still a kid," the Flame Alchemist interrupted, smirking. "Don't worry about it Hawkeye. I'll be fine."

"I was about to say that Edward isn't a soldier." Hawkeye retorted, crossing her arms. "You aren't going to make sport of him, are you?"

Mustang grinned boyishly. "Now why would you think that?"

The Lieutenant barely contained a groan.

This was not going to end well.


Mustang groaned loudly as he stumbled into the office, tossing away his uniform with hands thick with dirt. His back ached, his arms ached- Hell, his hair ached for all the work he put in.

It was late. Really late. As in, so late that even Hughes wasn't nuts enough to stick around, late.

Yet there was one more person around in the base.

"I warned you." Hawkeye said flatly, arching a single eyebrow. "Didn't I?"

"Not now, Hawkeye." The Flame Alchemist grumbled, falling face first into the couch. "I'm dead sore... I don't think I've worked so hard... ever."

"Indeed." Though Roy couldn't see her face, he could tell his Lieutenant was making a backhand insult.

Instead of answering, the Colonel buried his face deeper into the cushions, mussing up his dark hair and closing his eyes sleepily. "I think I'll just pass out here tonight..." he murmured drowsily.

"Come on sir. You'd best get home." Hawkeye urged, shaking her superior officer gently.

"Don't wanna..." Mustang complained tiredly. "Go 'way."

"Sir. With all due respect, get off the couch." Hawkeye said flatly, no longer in the mood to baby the alchemist.

"And as your superior officer, I hereby order you to leave me the Hell alone." The words probably would have sounded more dignified if they weren't muffled by a couch.

The next thing he knew, he was being roughly dragged off of the soft cushions, and barely had time to brace himself before his head nearly banged against the table.

"Oh for-" Mustang let loose a an oath as he stumbled to his feet, rubbing his head. "You didn't need to be so rough."

"Go home, sir." The Lieutenant said in reply.

Groaning, the Flame Alchemist shook his head and planted himself in a chair. "I can barely move, Hawkeye. I doubt I could make it back in one piece."

He sank into the hard wood of the chair, wishing he were back on the couch... or in a nice soft bed... or even better, getting a massage. Yeah, from a beautiful woman, stroking his back, digging her palms gently into his back, her breath tickling his ear-

Wait.

Wait.

Mustang's eyes snapped open and he shakily turned a single eye toward the completely calm, unaffected Hawkeye.

The Riza Hawkeye who was well known for her gunmanship.

The Riza Hawkeye who always played it cool.

The Riza Hawkeye who was currently giving him a massage.

Trying to calm down and failing miserably, the Flame Alchemist shakily managed a quiet, "Hawkeye... what are you doing?" her smell was drifting everywhere, into his nose, his clothes...

"Helping you get home, sir." The Lieutenant replied simply, as though she was completely fine with their situation.

She probably was.

Unable to comprehend, he merely nodded, deciding it was all just one big dream and to enjoy it.

It was probably the only time Hawkeye would ever give him a massage.

Still, somehow, Mustang found the silence rather... unnerving.

"So... how exactly did you learn how to do this?" he asked, unable to stop the silly, stupid smile that crossed his face as he relaxed, his muscles unclenching.

"I used to do this for my father when he was on leave." She replied, tone still unchanged, though her face and her voice contained scant traces of softness.

"I see." The normally calm tone in his own voice had a slight pitch to it, and he was just barely able to stop from groaning as the Lieutenant's hands seemed to hit all the right places. "Your father was a lucky man," Roy couldn't help but add, the sensations still as incredible as before.

"He was a good man." It wasn't a correction or an addendum. It was simply a statement of her feelings.

Briefly, Mustang toyed with the idea of asking her for more information. He pushed it aside. Private matters were best left private.

He knew she would have left him the same courtesy.

With a slight sigh of relief, the Flame Alchemist fell into a drowsy state once more. "Y'know... if you do this each time I work hard, I might just be motivated enough to do so, Hawkeye." He muttered, eyes closed.

"I'll keep that in mind." Hawkeye replied, a tiny smirk on her face.

The silence fell again. Through his addled mind, Mustang's lips formed another question. "So... besides your father, who else has experienced the marvelous touch of these hands, Hawkeye?"

For a moment, her hands stopped, and Roy wondered what happened. Then she spoke and continued. "No one, sir."

Blinking, Mustang tried and failed to summon the energy to turn his head. That couldn't have been right. She had to have had at least one date... "You mean to tell me that no one-"

Was it his imagination, or were her palms digging a bit too hard?

His lips closed, and he felt the subtle tension in the air. "I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely, "I was too inquisitive."

"Apology accepted." The digging subsided into its gentle ministrations once more, and they returned to the happy medium of silence for a while.

"However, I will say that I am most honored that you've bestowed this wonderful gift to me, Hawkeye." The Flame Alchemist murmured, smiling again with closed eyes. "Your help, as always is invaluable."

"I try sir." This time, she was smiling gently, though he could not see it through closed eyes.

The moment seemed a quiet sort of perfection, with her smiling gently at him as she rubbed his back while he leaned into the chair, eyes closed and a look of tranquil peace drifting around his face.

"And if you would be so kind as to just provide me with a blanket-"

"No dice sir." Hawkeye deadpanned, and her lips quirked into an exasperated smile.

"I had to try."