It's Not Checkmate Yet | FMA

Riza's POV

Okay. Well. Here's that chappie I made, to make up for the death of our beloved Hughes. Enjoy, and love it!! Because I loved writing it. *cheesy smile*

~FullmetalOtaku

Roy cried today. I never would've thought that I'd ever see him cry. He was always so strong, and so collected. But I knew that he's going through a hard time. He lost his best friend, after all.

You could say that I'm sad about it, too. Hughes was extremely annoying, and he always seemed to get on my last nerve. But he was a good friend, and since his death was so terrible to Roy... I was saddened. 

Roy was so upset about it, in fact, that he didn't want to be alone. He asked me to stay in his quarters tonight, and, I accepted. I just don't know anymore. He's been so vulnerable.

"Thanks for coming, Riza," he sniffles, opening the door to reveal his trashed quarters. I stare at him in shock, seeing his disshevled hair, and eyes ringed with circles. Before I could stop him, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into an embrace. I could smell trace amounts of alcohol on his clothing.

"Colonel, have you been drinking...?" I pull away to look at his tired face, and he looks back at me. He seemed slumped and defeated, but his proud stature wasn't swayed one bit. "Let me inside at once," I demand, deciding that it was time to pull him together.

I enter the threshold, and immediately see trash. Everywhere. It was disgusting, and dirty. I look at Roy with a glare, and he immediately snaps out of his depressing little reality.

"Shower. Now." I point to the door to the bathroom, and Roy sighs. He trudges off to the shower, not seeing any point in arguing with me. Good. I would've been angry if he argued.

Quickly, I begin to clean up the trash on the floor. It was a mess, but I got to the point where the wood peeked through, and I began to see some improvement. Good. I will never let the colonel wallow around in trash.

By the time Roy came out from his shower, he was in a pair of sweat pants, and a white undershirt. Everything around him was sparkling, thanks to me. I sat him down at the table, and fed him some soup. This should help.

"Colonel, you totally let yourself go," I point out, facing him from across the table. "What happened to 'moving forward'?"

"I only need one night to be sad," Roy counters, spooning some soup in his waiting mouth. "Then, I'll be ready to get back on my feet. -Bleh, this soup is awful, Riza."

"Well excuse me for not being a housewife," I snap back. "I don't normally cook. I only shoot. What's your excuse?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what's your excuse for completely trashing yourself, and your apartment," I clarify. "And don't answer me with the same answer as before! I want to know."

Roy looks down, and I'm a bit concerned that I've angered him. An angry Roy, is not a Roy I'd like to deal with. But, when he looks up, he had tears streaming from his sharp eyes. Shoulders shaking, he sets down the spoon and covers his face with his hands. I sigh, and make my way behind him.

"Up until now," he cries. "I didn't think I'd have anyone left to lose... But then, when Hughes died, I realized that I could very well lose you the same way, Riza. I could lose you."

I was shocked. After all of this, it was me he was crying about. Not Hughes, and not any of his other subordinates. Me.

"You're not going to lose me," I soothe, setting my hands on his shoulders and massaging them carefully. They were tense, and broad. The shoulders of a true soldier. "I'm smart enough to stay alive, Roy."

"I can't lose you," he whispers. "Promise me, Riza. Promise me, you won't die before I do. Understand? This is an order."

"...yessir," I salute, taking only half a second to take on that order. Anything for the colonel. No matter how hard that order will be to fulfill, I will dedicate my heart and soul to carry it out.

Roy calms, and his shoulder stop shaking. He stops crying altogether, in fact, and stands to greet me. He was so much bigger than I was, height and size. He also had a lot of toned muscles, and an extremely hard chest. He's been sculpted by the many years of working for the military.

And when I look into his eyes, they've not changed at all. The one part of his features, that I considered timeless. Cold, calculative, and focused. They were black as coals, and they made Roy, Roy. What a beautiful pair of eyes...

His hands drape around my midrift, and he pulls me up to his lips. Before I knew it, my lips were upon his. A passionate, careful kiss. His lips were so soft, and tasted faintly of the soup I gave him. But his scent engulfed me. Burnt firewood, and a hint of smoked ham...

I soon find my hands coursing through his still-damp hair, and he finds my clip. Carefully, he undoes it, and I feel my hair splay around me. I haven't worn it down in ages.

When we pull back, Roy's careful fingers are tracing each curve of my face. I blush slightly, only barely losing my composure. Each touch sent shivers through my entire body. He lightly leans down, and his soft lips are brushing my forehead. He keeps them there, and I lose my entire train of thought.

Snap out of it! I think, but to no avail. Roy was in front of me, and that was all that mattered. I kissed Roy Mustang, and I was happy I did so. Because I may have promised that he wouldn't lose me, but there was no guarentee that I wouldn't lose him.