BEFORE YOU READ:
There is a song that oes with this story, and I have loaded it onto a website for you to listen to. Go to my Fanfiction(dot)net profile above and click my homepage link to know how. It was the song that inspired me to write this story.
He was staring out the window again, his elbow propped up on his desk and his head resting against his closed fist.
He wasn't the kind to watch birds, or the trees, or the random officers roaming throughout he grounds. But on a lazy afternoon, what else was there to do?
He sighed; the heat was starting to get to him. He could feel the sweat forming on the edge of his hairline and how they slowly rolled down the side of his face. He gave out a deep breath of frustration – but mostly of boredom.
His dark eyes idly wandered around his office; at the unadorned wallpaper, the first, and only stain Black Hayate left on the wall, the worn, wooden furniture, and at the smaller desk beside his.
He forgot he wasn't the only one in the room.
She was doing one of her reports again; her work ethic was obviously unaffected by the heat.
He often wondered how she managed to work that diligently, how she remained silent and kept focused on her work, how her pen glided through her paper like there was no stopping her, and how she remained so calm and impassive that there were times he just wanted to step up in front of her shake the emotion out.
He put his arm down, and took hold of the glass next to his hand. The ice that had once crammed it had melted with his drink, giving it a very bland taste as it flowed down his throat. He quickly set the glass back down – much louder than he had intended.
She didn't look bothered; in fact, it looked like she didn't even hear a thing. But he saw the inconspicuous jerk of her wrist when the sound startled her.
How he saw it, he didn't know.
She quickly went back to her report, bringing back that emotionless guise of hers.
He sighed, much louder than he had intended again.
"Sir," she spoke up, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice. "Can you kindly lower it down a bit?"
She was one of very few people that could actually order him around – not that she knew it.
And he had no intention of telling her that anytime soon.
He nodded his reply, and continued to stare out the window.
They didn't have any other communication after that. An hour passed; he still hadn't touched his pile of paperwork, she was already halfway through, and it got hotter.
He loosened his collar, trying to cool the oven under his uniform.
She stood up, making him stop halfway, his finger still under his the neckline.
"Excuse me Sir," she said tonelessly. "I'll be back shortly."
"Go ahead." He waved his hand out towards the door, giving her all the permission she needed.
She nodded and turned around, making her way for the door.
She softly closed it behind her, as if trying not to interrupt the non-existent work he was doing.
He could hear her footsteps on the other side of the wooden door, and for some reason, his muscles relaxed.
She came back less than ten minutes later. She really did mean it when she said 'shortly'.
If he was in her place, he would have taken an hour for 'shortly'.
Of course, that was him. Not her.
She turned her back on him as she closed the door, and when she turned to face him, he realized she had a glass in her hand.
He lifted a random book that he had on his desk to cover his face and pretend he was reading.
Of course, it could have worked if the book wasn't upside down.
"Here Sir," she said, making him set the book down. She was giving him the glass. He peered down at it and saw that it was filled with ice cubes, floating in light colored liquid. "I think you need it." she finished.
He was surprised. Sure, she fetched him his coffee here and there, but it felt different that time.
He took it in his grasp, feeling the cold air exuding from the glass's surface, and unintentionally brushed his hand with hers.
But unlike most girls who would have started blushing, her facial expression remained the same.
Respectful and… painfully platonic.
She nodded, and swiftly made her way back for her desk.
He started to wonder why she stood out from other women he met. Her physical features were visibly above average, but they weren't extraordinary. She wasn't the kind to show too much skin when it came to clothing, in fact, she never wore skirts above her knees. She never flirted or dated, which she could do easily, seeing that the ratio of men to women in the military was enormous.
He shook his head. Time to change thoughts.
He brought the glass to his lips, the ice clinking against its sides as the liquid poured onto his lips. He took a long, refreshing sip, reviving the parts of his body that had died in the heat.
But then there was that spike of aftertaste.
It stood out from the drink itself, a taste much more obvious and one that stayed longer. He licked his lips as he tried to remember what it was.
"First Lieutenant Hawkeye, what did you put in this drink?" he asked, after not coming to an established conclusion.
She looked up from her work; she was just about to start on her last paragraph. She looked at her handsome, higher ranking officer, then at the glass in his hands.
"Honey," she answered politely, an involuntarily upward tug of her lips following. "Honey, Sir. It adds a sweet aftertaste."
He paused, capturing that picture into his mind.
"Honey," he mused, staring back out the window, and at the reddening sky outside.
It was the morning after, the office was full and loud once again. The other guys were back in their seats, talking about the night they spent in the bar.
She was in her seat, ordering the papers she was going to submit in an hour. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was already half past eight, and he still wasn't there.
She heard the doorknob turn, and it opened, and he soon entered the room.
She sighed in her seat. "Sir, you're late once again. How ma-"
She heard something set down in front of her.
"Sir, what's this?" she asked, looking at the glass he had set in front of her.
He just smiled, that familiar smile of his with its second meanings and motives.
She watched him as he walked for his desk and sat down, like it was just another day.
She then focused her attention back at the glass in front her. At the ice cubes floating on light colored liquid.
She held it in her hands, and brought the glass to her lips, slowly tilting it to take a small sip.
She paused, taking in that familiar aftertaste.
She looked at him in the corner of her eye.
He was already staring out the window.
My first FMA fic, something I wrote in like… thirty minutes! I'll scan through it for any mistakes tomorrow, it's getting late for me. I'm sorry if any of the characters seem… out of character. Please leave a review on what you think! Thanks for reading!