"Stop fidgeting, Mr. Mustang. I can't concentrate when you wiggle around like that," Riza Hawkeye said gruffly as she straddled his hips and leaned forward to inspect the lines of the ink on his back.

"Your hands are cold," Roy Mustang replied, his voice laced with annoyance and just as rough. He was older than her by 3 years but he still let her boss him around like he was her puppy; not that she ever abused her exceptional talent of taking control over him, but it was at times like this when he tended to overreact.

"I'm sorry," she said with a touch sorrow, soft and desolate. Her fingers stopped skimming and he felt her shift.

Slowly, he turned his head and peaked up at her, catching the unmistakable grief on her face. She'd been rather subdued since she came back to announce to his father that she'd become a state alchemist and saw Master Mustang pass away before her very eyes. It got worse when he revealed the tattoo to her after the funeral, like some heavy weight pressed on her and made her shoulders curl in.

Despite the fact that he was three years older than her, Roy still felt that Miss Hawkeye was his closest friend after the three years of apprenticeship she had taken with his father. He cared about her on some level, and seeing the despair in her eyes was worse than he could have imagined.

Slickly, he twisted under her so that he was facing upwards, laying on his back. His hands cradled hers where they were pressed against his stomach and he could feel her trembling.

"Miss Hawkeye," he murmured, surprised at her lack of control. She was always so in check; he'd never once seen her cry, and it was disturbing to see her so deeply uprooted from the rock solid confidence she always had. "I didn't mean to offend you."

She finally met his eyes and he was shocked to see her usually stoic expression filled with disgust. "I'm not offended by you."

"Then?"

Her teeth clenched and she bowed her head, her bangs falling in her eyes. "Did it hurt?"

"What?"

She fisted her hands against his stomach and began to shake a little harder. "Did it hurt when he put that thing on your back?" Her voice was loud, echoing through the empty house like the ghost of a hefty breeze.

He was speechless for a moment; astonished that she seemed so hurt and angry over the inked lines he'd allowed on his back. Flame alchemy was a secret that the Mustang family had been researching for generations; it was Roy's duty to carry the burden of the finished research even if he himself had no talent for alchemy himself.

"I chose this," he murmured in a low voice. "Don't you dare go around feeling sorry for me, Riza Hawkeye. Don't you dare."

She turned her head away from him and glared at the carpet, still shuddering against him. "I can't even imagine how much it must have hurt. I want to use flame alchemy for good! My dream to change this nation for the better can't be accomplished without it! And yet when I see it there on your skin, permanently printed into your back, all the secrets I strive for. . .I. . .I get so angry."

"None of that here," Roy replied softly. "I'm counting on you to do what you promised you would. My family has been after this research for generations and now that it's finally complete, all it needs is someone to carefully protect the secret and use it with the best intentions. I wouldn't have allowed you to see me half-naked if you weren't the perfect candidate, Miss Hawkeye." He patted her hands reassuringly.

She looked at him again after several long moments, her expression neutral again, though there was something warm about it. "Your trust in me is remarkable, Mr. Mustang." She rose up onto her knees and put her hands on her hips. "Now turn back around; I think I was on to something near the bottom."

He grumbled good-naturedly and turned back around. His eyes drifted closed after a few moments of silence but all the blood rushed to his face and his eyes popped back open when Riza began to shift downward. His body stiffened in a reaction he did not want to have as she pressed her chest to his ass, her chin nearly touching the small of his back, fingers tracing the Latin phrasing she couldn't quite translate.

"What are you doing?" he choked, his face burning red.

"Stop moving," she barked.

He tried to lay still and quiet but all he could think about was how her breasts were flattened between their bodies, her breath blowing across his skin, her hands unknowingly making patterns and creating goosebumps. This was inappropriate; he knew it. He knew more than anything that the thoughts flying through his head at record speed were not even allowed to be spoken. But this was Riza Hawkeye; put aside that she had been a fourteen year old girl when they met, she was a woman. A beautiful woman at that. And he was all too aware of it.

He squirmed slightly, hoping that his fidgeting would go unnoticed, but she cursed loudly and pushed herself up away from him, one hand firmly on his ass. The blush on his face deepened."Damn it, Roy Mustang, you aren't making this easy."

"Neither are you," he grumbled to himself. Her obliviousness was comforting in an odd way.

A sigh pushed from her lungs and she dropped back down, continuing to inspect the tattoo in the same fashion as before.

She pressed her fingers and her body into him hard enough that he wouldn't feel the shaking.