It was sometime not too long ago, he didn't think, that he'd finally convinced Riza to drink something. He'd had to keep pushing on her that he was fine, not to mention all the guards around, and he'd pointedly used her previous justification for staying seated against her. Besides, how dare she miss out on some wine that truly was good, even though not his fix. Relenting, she'd finally begun on her initial glass, which, as it so happened, turned into a few and then many, with him having a good amount, as well.
The 'party' was ending and people were being ceremoniously ushered out, the officers to their cars and the enlisted to cabs. Now, he wasn't drunk, definitely not from wine alone, and neither was Riza. But while he was only feeling slight effects from it all, she was feeling considerably more, as evidenced by her trouble going down the few steps to the curb-side.
He hadn't thought she'd been as affected as she was for she'd shown no trouble grabbing her elegant purse from the table and only a bit standing. There'd been no stammer in her speech or quiver in her walk until the steps. Her pace had been slow and as he thought about it, it was from her concentrating to just walk properly. But the steps proved to be her revealing as she stumbled and he'd thrown a hand out to grip her arm and steady her.
"Are you alright?"
She brought her free hand up to brush back the strands of hair from her cheek, letting him see the obvious flush left by the alcohol. And as she nodded slowly with her gaze on the car door, the other marks left from the kisses of wine upon her ears briefly came into his sight, as well. Nodding back to her, he kept his hand around her arm as he helped her into the car, dismissing the young man meant for that before going around to get in himself. Letting his door be closed for him, he looked at Riza staring out the window before instructing the driver to the Lieutenant's housing.
He spent the entire car ride watching her, arms crossed over his chest as he buried himself in the corner. He took in how her expressions changed with her thoughts and how the night lights filtering in from droplets on the window shifted across her features as she gazed out it. The lights as they crossed the bridge were brighter than most of the street lamps and Riza watched as they bounced off the river, sighing, halos in the saturated air adding such ethereality to the night.
Those same lights allowed him an intimate view of her silhouette, shattered magnificently and enhanced as her chest rose and slowly deflated with that breath. Catching the driver's eyes through the rearview mirror, Roy looked away to stare out his own window, his temporary solitude only broken as they came to a gentle stop in front of Riza's place.
He sighed softly, lost in regret that the ride had to come to an end. But before he could become too entrenched in melancholy at the impending recession of the comforting silence, Riza opening her door at the stop jerked him into action. She was probably just going on her ingrained 'help the colonel outta the car' mode. She almost always drove him, after all, and always saw him in and out of the vehicle…or any other door way.
Halting the driver with a quick hand on his shoulder, Roy gave a short nod in addition to their eye contact and hurriedly opened his own door. Going at a light run around the back of the car, he reached Riza as she was coming out and came to stand just behind the door. He took her left hand in his, supporting her as she put her left foot down, heel rippling the smallest of puddles. His right placed itself at the small of her back as she finally emerged and he ducked his head down to look behind her into the car. Seeing the purse clutched under one arm and no forgotten items, he helped her first over the curb and then to her door.
She seemed to be doing fine to him, and after standing and the first several steps, he'd dropped his hands from hers to close the car door. She hadn't waited, not that he'd really expected her to, and he'd jogged a few steps to come up on her right, watching her for any signs indicative of impairment. They reached the small stair case, and he meant small with only three steps, and stopped at their bottom, letting Riza ascend alone.
He stood as she opened her purse and fished around for her keys, turning to head back to the car as he heard them jingling. He would have kept going but he caught her fumbling them in her too limp fingers and turned back again just in time to see them fall to the wet ground. She…was a little more affected than she appeared, her reflexes too slow to catch them and register their fall. Heaving a sigh in exasperation, he turned to the driver, signaling that he needed fifteen minutes. He waited until the driver flashed his headlights and nodded back, only watching as he pulled out from the curb before going to Riza.
He climbed the steps and placed his hand upon her upper arm, stopping her from reaching down as he bent to retrieve them. Straightening again, he opened his palm, jerking it away as she tried to take them and gave a small shake of his head. Reopening his hand, he allowed her to point out the correct key and proceeded to open the door for her. If she couldn't descend steps or even operate keys, he didn't really trust her to make it to bed. A childish and hopelessly selfish perception, but he…felt he really had to see her in.
And which, thankfully, she justified as she cleared the lip of the doorway with a bracing hand on its frame but tripped over Hayate. Sad really, considering the overly disciplined dog only perched before her. Slow reflexes, they'd kill ya, and didn't he know that. He followed her, not too closely, as she ambled to her bed room. He'd paused in the doorway, uncomfortable with entering, and only gawked as her shoes and purse fell to the floor at the bedside while she flopped heavily down onto the mattress in one continuous motion. He blinked dumbly a few times before jerkily shaking his head and turning back for the living room…
…where a very hungry Black Hayate was waiting, paw in air and tail wagging. Roy was locked in a mental war with him, eyes fastening onto each other and holding, willing himself not to be taken in by the animal abusing his appealing nature. Roy's face twitched and Hayate cocked his head to the other side. Twitch, heavy overdramatic sigh released, Roy acknowledged the end of his futile battle.
Roy went to the front door and opened it, glancing back on Hayate who still sat by the couch. Motioning impatiently, he gave an involuntary smile as Hayate ran out the door. Roy moved out onto the top step, closing the door behind him and watched as Hayate sniffed around the yard a bit before proceeding to mark every extremely tall strand of grass. Smirking, Roy gave a short, sharp whistle, and opened the door. Hayate's ears erected and he focused his alert stance on Roy before bee-lining for the opening and the warmth beyond.
"C'mon, mutt," he said, making his way to the small kitchen. He removed both gloves, his pristine gloves, shoved them into a pocket, and pulled Hayate's bowl from the counter onto the floor and opened the nearest cabinet. "Now, where does she keep your food…" he mumbled to himself, systematically moving to each cupboard. He closed the last door, stepping back to view the kitchen space at a glance as a thoughtful hand rose to his chin. Eyes landing on the refrigerator, he let his hand fall away and he strode over to it. And upon opening it up, it reappeared at his chin.
"Honestly, what the hell does she feed you?" he asked as he scoured the shelves. Leave it to Hawkeye to have the most organized refrigerator and kitchen in all of Amestris, no, the world. Passing over the fresh produce and meat, he noticed the one lone container and reached in curiously to pull it out. Looking into it, he smiled triumphantly and pulled away, letting the door close. Hayate must have recognized the bowl, because he stood on all fours and his tail went off as his tongue dangled.
"Alright, alright, I got ya," he said in fake annoyance. Holding Hayate by the collar to ensure that he came away with both hands, he deposited the food. "Damn dog," Roy cursed silently as Hayate chomped away. "Getting all the good food." And mock glaring at him, he gave a parting barb as he stood and went to check on Riza one last time, "You're too spoiled."
He slowed in his approach to her doorway, indecision or anxiousness making his footfalls heavy, maybe both. He placed a hand upon the frame and hesitantly brought his eyes up to her form only to shoot them down to his side as he fought the smile from becoming all out laughter. Oh, how she'd draw out his death when she learned of him seeing her in such an undignified and informal light. He started towards her slumped form, unchanged from her initial collapse onto its glorious softness.
He was unable to bring himself to sit upon it. It was too intimate, and he didn't think he'd be able to handle it. Well, he corrected, himself. Subordinate or not, a sexy female was a sexy female, and her dress and position certainly weren't working against her. Hmm, well, okay, he guessed he could bring himself to sit beside her as he already was, not that he was gonna argue the fact since he was already there.
His hand, too, it seemed, had jumped onto the wagon of betrayal as its fingers stroked the elongated hairpin before curling around the end. A confident pull easily removed it and the intricate bundle of hair fell away, it too, flopping onto the pillow in much the way its mistress had. A notch in the 'pin' caught his attention and he brought it closer for inspection. Fingering the line, the lower half began to slide down only to be secured by his other hand. Controlling the removal, his mouth formed a large 'eek' before re-sheathing the delicate blade and stretching to place it upon the nightstand. He didn't know why he'd been surprised.
His eyes continued to roam, no to check, to check, her over. He noted her hands, still dressed in the elegant gloves, were one on and one under her pillow, and moved on. The necklace had fallen to reach for the mattress, her waist was twisted, and the top most leg bent towards the edge of the bed, her knee almost even with its edge. He'd placed his hands on his knees, ready to push himself up to leave when something peeking through that glorious, glorious division in the dress's sides grabbed him.
Shooting a cautious glance to her face, he leaned over it and squinted his eyes in puzzlement. Darting another crucial and potentially life-saving look to her face, he brought his right hand forward and grabbed the edge of the fabric. He peeled it back oh, so slowly and sprinkled many furtive glances to the indicative zone of impending danger. He supposed one could call it the face, too. Still, even with seeing no forthcoming danger, he was a cautious man, and only folded enough away to see what it was; a holster, and not an empty one; and knowing her, not unloaded, either.
Moaning to himself at this predicament, and a predicament it was, because he couldn't let her sleep with a loaded pistol (between her legs, mind you) in good conscience. So, ingenious and sly man that he was, he would have to come up with some manner of removing it. He wouldn't complain. Being given an opportunity to touch his subordinate in this way would be most…enjoyable. Though it would have to be the leg she was laying on…
Shaking his head momentarily and sending another cautious glance to three o'clock, or her face, he flattened his hand against her leg, the skin warm. Her features showed no movement, and he gave another slight movement against her flesh to make sure she wasn't about to wake soon. If she did, Black Hayate would be burying more than just a thigh bone from dinner tomorrow. Okay, he was positive she was out, however, he wasn't so confident in himself, and so he paused momentarily to reach back into his pocket and pulled his gloves on, not trusting his hands to behave in such a…sensitive area.
He couldn't resist a last look before he brought his fingers to the holster and examined the area with his scientific mind and eye as to how the best method to accomplish this would be. Pulling the fabric back a bit, he reached over her bent leg to the gun beneath, squeezing his hand between the legs just enough so that the two of his fingers wrapping around the handle had enough of a grip to pull it out. He made a face as he brought the small pistol up to eye level and deposited it on the table next to her hair-pin slash knife.
The holster, however, posed a different obstacle that would not be so easily removed. The hand that had previously deposited the gun came to rest at his chin in his favorite thinking posture. A thoughtful hand came forth and took the fabric through the split, flipping it this way a bit or folding it that way, trying to judge what the better approach would be.
He honestly didn't think there was an easy way to get it off with her in that position. He wasn't about to move her because she was dozing from exhaustion, too much dancing, he knew, and not a drunken stupor. Those were two completely different things with two severely different consequences. Coming to only one conclusion, he decided that it was just safer to leave it on. Yes, indeed.
Knowing this, he couldn't stop from bringing both hands to the dark material and was even more powerless to stop them folding the front half up farther from where it parted over her rarely-seen bare legs. Alright, never-seen, but perhaps that was why he continued to trail the folded cloth up to her mid thigh, even then unable to see the top of the holster strap. It was a good idea he'd decided against removing it, then, because no amount of justified explaining would save him from impending death for as high as he'd have to reach to undo it.
'Hm, mid thigh,' he pondered. 'Nope.' The fabric shifted a miniscule amount higher, and after a shake of the head, lower, just below her mid thigh. 'Yes,' he breathed to himself, 'perfect length.' He smiled smugly to himself, beyond satisfied. Now the only dilemma he had was whether he kept hers shorter than the rest or the same. Well, another predicament for another time.
Letting the fabric fall away, he stood up from the bed, patting his coat down at the feel of forgetting something. Oh! That's right, the ring. Sticking a gloved hand into his left pocket, he took the small dark box out and hesitated, looking between her and the box momentarily. He grimaced, did he leave it on the table or…? No, that would be too callous, impersonal, and he owed her more than that.
The grimace only lessened as he gazed at the ring, tilting it somewhat to either side to catch the small glints from the faint street lights. Her face was the most at ease he had ever seen, and the hands on and under the pillow adorable and…feminine, dare she find out. His gloved fingers pinched it at the stone and mounting, tugging it up to remove it from the protective cushioning. Holding it up to the window briefly, he turned and sat the still-open box on her quickly cluttering tabletop.
His left hand covered hers, fingers bending under it and sliding his gentle grip down her fingers, singling out his targeted one. He maneuvered the ring over the fabric and gently left her smaller hand fall from his, giving a minor caress as it once again rested upon the pillow. The fingers of his right hand speared the tumble that was her bun and carefully, carefully combed them into some semblance of a straighter order.
It was tough to pull himself away from her, it always was. She was a security blanket on the deepest of levels and so much more, but he had to go. If he stayed any longer, his driver would get tired of waiting and rumors would fly. He couldn't afford that, especially not now. So he backed out of the room slowly, turning around even more so as he came to the doorway and approached the front door.
Opening the door to the sidewalk revealed the driver just pulling back up to the curb and the heavy mist having evolved into a light drizzle. He gave a forlorn look back towards the bedroom and stepped out onto the steps. He'd been about to close the door when Hayate yipped and drew his attention. Hayate hadn't been trying to get out, just get in his way.
He sighed and brought his right hand down to rest on his muzzle, bestowing the dog a solemn pet. "You watch her for me tonight, okay?" he spoke lowly before flipping his hand 'away, away' and finally closing the door as the dog backed away. The pause at the steps came unbidden and his hand migrated to his collar to loosen the uncomfortable choking fabric, adding yet another look behind him.
He'd delayed enough and now he really should get home. He was tired, as well, and while tomorrow was a day off, he never stopped working. He didn't even bother to stop the driver from getting out and rather relished the attention as the door was opened and closed for him. He really was tired. After a quick mumbling on his quarters, he assumed his sulking position, hands crossed and leaning against the side. Though this time, he forewent looking out the window and instead settled for gazing blanking at his crossed legs, the sound of the wipers lulling him into a light doze as the car drove on.
There were plenty of tomorrow to spend with Hawkeye, and he looked forward to every one.
Ok, this is the second chapter! As predicted. O.o Um, actually, I thought of another story idea I had that I was planning to post as a separate story, but it could very well be added on as a third chapter. Though for now, I'm not sure what I'll do with it regarding stand alone or not. So, not sure what else to say, so until next time.