"I can't feel my hands anymore."
Roy Mustang grimaced at said appendages, letting the pen he had been holding fall to the paper-strewn desk. He exhaled deeply for emphasis, his breath steaming in the air.
"It should be criminal to force paperwork on me during the holidays, of all times. And at least they could heat the damned building."
This had been a complaint repeated before. He had been sitting in his freezing office for some time now, and he made sure to make his displeasure known at least once every hour. It was a way to keep his face from freezing into one expression, for one. It was also a way to make Riza Hawkeye speak.
Speaking of her, Roy was fairly suprised he hadn't gotten a clipped retort yet. Riza was usually quite on the ball when it came to keeping him in line. She was, in all honesty, the only reason his paperwork was done at all. Though when she sat at her desk and the sunlight fell through the window at her back...Roy was just thankful for having the self-control to stay in his seat at all. Work was out of the question at times like those.
Today, however, she had sat down in a chair across the room, laid out a neat cloth on the desk next to her, and processed to dismantle, clean, and inspect every gun she had in the office. Roy had no chance to shirk the paperwork silently taunting him in their neat piles, what with the Hawk's Eye watching him over the pieces of her various firearms.
Heaving another long-suffering sigh to frost the air with, Roy looked up. There was Riza sitting in the same spot, beautiful hair pulled back as severely as always, face peaceful, depthless red eyes... closed?
Ah. Roy smirked to himself. He never thought he'd see that day - Riza Hawkeye, a professional if there ever was one, asleep on the job. True to form, even in slumber her back was straight against the chair, her arm resting on the table where components of a favorite pistol lay neatly against the cloth. The only things to betray her unconciousness were the previously noted closed eyes, and the fact that her head had tipped a bit forward. He had to give her credit.
Standing, Roy cracked his back luxuriously, still watching his subordiante sleep with a little smirk on his lips. She was going to be furious when she woke to see that he was gone. And having fallen asleep on top of that! He was halfway out the door, still chuckling softly to himself, when something made him pause.
Looking at Riza with a considering eye, Roy thought back. She had babysat him yesterday, too, and that had gone into the wee hours of the morning; this current session had started bright and early, with only a few hours respite. All this week Riza had been doing legwork, staying late in the office and showing up the next morning with obscene amounts of new material. It was a wonder she had even stayed awake this long.
Roy's smirk faded, replaced with a soft smile as he stepped back into the frigid room. Riza looked so peaceful in her starched uniform, soft winter light filtering through the frosted windows.
Shivering a little, Roy realized she must be cold. Riza would never complain, but that didn't mean she wasn't uncomfortable. Walking as softly as he could, he came to a stop next to her sleeping form. This was, he realized, the first time he'd ever seen her sleeping. He didn't know why it struck him - maybe because she looked so unguarded, so at peace. Never before had he watched the sleeping faces of any girls he'd slept with, and here he was, standing before a woman he'd never even embraced, trying to comit to memory the way her lashes rested against her cheeks, the exact fall of her bangs across her forehead.
With a sigh that frosted white in the cold air, Roy undid the buttons of his jacket and slipped it off. Shivering in his white shirt, he leaned down and gently lay the fabric over Riza, hands smoothing it down. His smile was affectionate as he paused over her. But he turned away without any further contact, knowing Riza was likely to wake up and spoil the moment.
Still, it was with a cheerful whistle that Roy Mustang strolled from the office, freezing in his thin shirt but somehow not feeling the cold.
AN: My first Royai fic - actually, my first FMA fic in general. Thanks goes to Yellow Mask for looking it over and for providing the inspiration for it in the forms of her breathtaking oneshots.
Any critique is quite appreciated.