Author's Note: This is a long-overdue companion fic to "Trust," which dealt with why Hawkeye trusts Mustang so much, and where her love for him originated. An off-hand comment in one of the reviews on that fic made me realize that it'd be cool to write a similar thing from Mustang's perspective. This is my idea of what Mustang is really like.

Since everyone calls me a playboy, a flippant youth always searching for temporary romance, they seem surprised to learn that I have not so much as kissed any of these women I chase after. Jean Havoc, especially, seemed surprised when he learned this. I never tell anyone why this is, but the truth of it is that an experience I had with you changed my life forever in that respect.

When you told me your father had tattooed a transmutation circle on your back and that you wanted me to see it, my insides squirmed with embarrassment even as I agreed. I was very young back then, and of course I had entertained ideas of romance before. Needless to say, this was not the way I had expected to start down that road.

My embarrassment only mounted higher and higher as I followed you back to the mansion, and I was grateful you were in front so you couldn't see how my cheeks blazed. And as we neared your room, I found myself hoping you were as chaste as I thought you were.

As it turned out, I needn't have worried. When you turned to close the door behind me, I saw that your cheeks were just as red as mine, and I noticed how your hands trembled as you pulled up your shirt with your back facing to me. That was when it struck me, like a physical blow. You had made yourself vulnerable – for me.

I think it was in that moment that I began to love you. It wasn't that I suddenly wanted to hold you and shower you with kisses, but I mark that moment as the beginning of everything. You opened up to me in a way no one else ever has, before or since. You risked, you made yourself vulnerable, and when you did you became more beautiful than any other woman in the world. I found myself oblivious to the beauty of your body, which I only acknowledged later; I was transfixed by the beauty of your silent statement: I am willing to put myself at your mercy. I am willing to let you in. So come on in. I am not afraid of you. You opened up your shell and revealed the pearl inside.

I have tried to follow your example, but I'm afraid I may have failed. I always try to hide things from you, but fortunately you can read me like a book. Still, it doesn't amount to the same thing, does it? I want to open up to you as you did to me. I want to make myself vulnerable in your arms. I want to shatter my shell so you can put the pieces back together again.

I think of these things whenever I gaze into your eyes for too long. Those are the times when you give me that special, knowing smile of yours and say gently, "Perhaps you should get back to work, Colonel?"

And I love you for it.