A/N: I know, I know. I don't make author notes much anymore because they're embarrassing. But I just wanted to say that I'm really happy I was finally able to write a fic, no matter how short, for this pairing. Royai always has been and always will be one of my OTPs, so I think you can expected more fics of them someday.

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It's cold in Mustang's office; his coat is bundled up around him as tightly as it will go, but he reclines in the green chair, tapping a pen against his lips as he loses himself in his thoughts.

A present.

He pushes himself back and stands, and the pen hits the floor silently. He gazes at the snow-covered courtyard beyond his window. His breath fogs up the glass so he leans forward and draws a small outline of a gift with a gloved finger.

A present for Hawkeye.

It's even colder outside. Riza hurries down the brightly lit street through the throngs of people who don't seem to mind the chill, and in her haste, the temperature doesn't bother her much either. Wrapping paper is grasped tightly in one hand, snow stinging the small cuts littering her skin, and her other hand rests on the strap of a small, swaying bag.

Inside is a present for Mustang.

When the pair finally meets up in the colonel's home, their greeting is less of an embrace and more of a crash. They tumble apart, her with a bruised chin and him with a bruised ego, and Mustang takes Riza's hand gently in his and pulls her onto the couch. They sit in silence for a few seconds.

"Here," Riza says finally. She extends her hand, holding an expertly wrapped present. "I hope you like it,sir."

Roy takes it and raises an eyebrow at the numerous bandages and partly healed cuts covering her fingers. The moment he tears off the wrapping paper he realizes their origin. Inside the box is a neatly folded — and poorly made — scarf knit in white with red yarn interspersed throughout.

Riza's face becomes a faint shade of red as he holds it up. "It's not the best; I know. I'm… not really good at sewing. I wanted to buy one, but none of the ones in the stores suited you," she says, and Mustang grins at her and ties it around his neck.

"It's wonderful," he replies. "It's warm, and that's what matters. I think it has a certain amount of charm to it. After all, you made it."

Riza rolls her eyes and bites back a smart comment. It's generally unwise to be sarcastic to one's superior, especially if said superior happens to be one's lover. "I'm glad," she says instead.

"Now, it's your turn. Close your eyes."

She does, and a moment later she feels cold metal touch her neck and fall heavily onto her chest. She opens them and looks down to see a golden locket hanging from a thin metal chain. As she picks it up, it opens, and a soft melody rings out. When she finally glances back up at Roy, he's smirking, but she sees through his confident façade to realize how nervous he is. After all, what if she doesn't like it?

But she does, so she wraps her fingers around the necklace and leans forward, kissing her colonel gently, breathing in his musk of saffron and amber as he draws her closer. "It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful," she murmurs into the crook of his neck. She pulls back and shakes her head sadly. "I believe you've outdone me."

Mustang kisses her again to silence her. "This isn't a competition, lieutenant," he says dryly. "And even if it were, I think your gift wins. It's practical. Unique. Heartfelt. Beautiful. A bit like you, wouldn't you say?"

Riza places two fingers on his lips as he tries to kiss her once more. "The flattery is charming but a bit… overdone, sir," she comments, more than a touch of sarcasm in her voice. She gazes flatly at him as he attempts to return the even stare. Then she laughs and wraps her arms around his neck. "But I do love your gift."

"And I yours," Roy says. "And I you," he adds, throwing a bit of the scarf around the woman's neck so they are intertwined, and Riza merely places another kiss on his lips. And as she does so, she can't help but think how he is right. It's very warm indeed.