Maes' hand closed on Roy's elbow as he leaned close, peering over Roy's shoulder at the lunch display. The usual, something scarily unidentifiable – school could never make anything look good – but the complaining was a pleasant tradition, and Roy was nicely near. Back from drill and just showered -- a condition whose damp hair and pink skin always inspired impure thoughts on Maes' side – he was relaxed and gorgeous, a temptation just standing there.

One of the women who served the lunch slapped something on Roy's tray, and Maes made a joke – not about the food, not in front of the dear women, no – and pulled Roy closer. Roy snorted, tipping backward enough to tuck himself under Maes' arm, and Maes grinned, moving to kiss Roy's temple. It was only by chance that he glanced up. He didn't know why he did; it just felt like his eyes were pulled back to the counter.

He looked up, mouth mere inches from Roy's skin and still smiling as Roy took his tray back, and his eyes met the lunchlady's. She was staring at him, her gaze that defiantly incurious stare of someone who is witnessing something shocking but is determined not to show it, and Maes' smirk froze. Roy hadn't noticed yet, was in fact still commenting on the joke Maes had made, but Maes didn't hear him. The woman was watching them – was watching Maes – and he didn't know what to do.

Things fell into slow motion, the moment elongating and then breaking into a frightening shatterpoint of dark, worried thoughts that were sickeningly new. He felt pinned by her flat gaze, accused somehow though he hadn't quite done anything. Maes was used to being in trouble, was used to feeling guilty when he'd done something bad (when the occasion warranted), but this…? This was different. This was guilt when doing something good. If Roy saw – if the woman said something to someone else – if Maes did kiss Roy, if he didn't –

And then time snapped back like a rubber band and Roy was moving down the line, pulling out of his grasp as the woman's eyes flicked to the next person to be served. The moment was over, and Maes trailed after Roy with a tray devoid of everything except bread. He didn't know what he was going to tell Roy about his sudden reduction in appetite, but he had too much else to think about: what was going to happen, what that had meant… and though his friend had done nothing, a weird frustration that always seemed to be associated with Roy Mustang.