Chapter Text
General Roy Mustang
Captain Riza Hawkeye
If you are reading this, then you have made it safely to the concierge of the Heart of Aerugo Hotel. You’ll find that your expenses for the next five days have been paid in full. I know I told you that this was to be a delicate foreign affairs mission, but that was a small deception on my part. Your real mission is this: take a load off! It came to my attention that neither of you have taken any leave longer than a day since well before the events two years ago, and so I took it upon myself to arrange this vacation for you. No need to thank me!
If I hear that either of you set foot in the Amestrian Embassy or crossed back into Amestris before your five days are up, I’ll have you both court-martialed.
You’ve both worked hard. Try to have a little fun while you’re still young. Enjoy your stay!
Faithfully yours,
Fuhrer Grumman
Roy crumpled the thick stationary of the letter in his hands, jaw clenched. “That damn old fox,” he muttered, though the language in his head was much fouler.
Beside him, as always, Riza covered her eyes with one hand and let out a quiet sigh. “I thought this trip sounded suspicious, but to think this is what he had in mind…?”
The two of them were standing in the lobby of a very high-end hotel in the Aerugonian capital city of Santori. It had taken three long train rides and sixteen hours to get there from the southern border of Amestris. They had, of course, been under the impression that it was a work trip and that they would receive the details upon arrival, but as always, Grumman was five steps ahead of them.
“That’s it, we’re getting on a train,” Roy fumed, snatching up his suitcase. Without him or Riza around, one of the other generals - or, God forbid, Havoc - would be left in charge of the Ishval Reparation Project. Roy shuddered to think what could fall to pieces in five days without his supervision.
Riza caught his arm as he tried to storm away, halting him in place. Any other officer would have thought twice about grabbing their superior in such a way, but her grip was firm and her stance unbudging. “Please don’t be so rash, sir. You saw what the Fuhrer said.”
It was just like her to be so level-headed in the face of Roy’s impulses. “If he really wanted to commend us for our hard work, another promotion would’ve been nice,” he grumbled.
Riza’s hand fell away from his arm when she saw that he wasn’t going to make a break for it. “It doesn’t sit well with me either sir, but if he was serious about court-martialing us then we can’t risk it.” Disobeying a mandated vacation would hardly get them fired, but having that mark on his record would not do Roy any favours in his attempt to rise through the ranks.
The woman behind the concierge desk who had handed Roy the letter was giving them a peculiar look. “Everything… okay?” she asked haltingly in a heavy Aerugonian accent.
Roy took a deep breath and smiled, defaulting to his charming public personality. “Yes, miss, thank you. We’ll take our keys now.”
The woman nodded and turned to the key hooks behind her, nearly all of which were barren. It was the peak of summer, after all, and from what Roy could tell just at a glance, The Heart of Aerugo was a popular destination. The woman turned back and placed on the counter a single brass key with the room number attached to it by a string.
“Your key,” she said with a pleasant smile.
Roy glanced at Riza, who returned it out of the corner of her eye.
“Shouldn’t there be two keys?” Roy inquired politely.
The woman’s smile dimmed slightly as she tried to parse the question. She didn’t seem very fluent in Amestrian, so Roy tried again.
“Two, two rooms,” he said, holding up two fingers.
The woman consulted a clipboard. “Mustang, yes? Mustang, one room.”
Roy kept his smile firmly affixed. “Fine, then we’ll just book a second. Two rooms, how much?”
The woman glanced back at the hooks and shook her head. “No more.”
Roy felt his stomach plummet. “None? Can you please double-check?”
Riza kept quiet. She understood what Roy was doing - they were superior and subordinate, they couldn’t share a room, it was highly inappropriate - but she was also overcome with a heavy feeling of acceptance. Grumman had played them, and they were just going to have to do what he wanted.
The woman dutifully checked her clipboards and books and whatever else she had below the desk, but still ended up shaking her head. “Full,” she said apologetically. “If one empty in next few days, we tell you.”
Roy let out a tiny sigh and smiled again at her, reaching into his pocket for his envelope of the local currency. “Very well. Thank you,” he said as he placed a tip on the counter and picked up the key in one smooth motion.
The woman took the money with a smile and a thank you, and the pair made their way over to the elevator. The rest of the hotel looked rather old, but the elevator seemed to be a newer addition. Waiting inside was an operator who smiled at them and tried to make conversation in Aerugonian. Roy and Riza only had about ten phrases of the language between the two of them, so the conversation petered out rather quickly as they rose through the levels to reach the seventh floor.
The walk to find their room was silent and oddly tense. Roy hoped desperately that the room would at least have two beds, meanwhile Riza wondered if she could possibly get away with killing the current Fuhrer of Amestris without being executed for treason. It would have to be the perfect crime.
When Roy opened their door, they were met with the sight of a clean, well-furnished hotel room. There was a desk, a radio, and an ensuite bathroom. By the window was a pair of armchairs that looked rather comfortable. Against the wall was a single queen-sized bed topped by a thick comforter patterned with mauve flowers.
Roy set his suitcase down by the desk and turned to Riza, who was lingering in the doorway, scanning the room.
"You can have the bed," Roy said as he shrugged out of his vest. Neither of them were in uniform, as it wouldn't be good for the tentative peace Amestris had formed with Aerugo for Amestrian soldiers to be walking around the capital in full military regalia. But it was much warmer here than in Central, and the material of his two-piece suit was making him sweat.
Riza shook her head and didn't budge from the threshold. Roy understood why - if she stepped forward and allowed the door to close, then it would just be the two of them, in a hotel room, with one bed. He felt a prickle on the back of his neck like he was being watched. He knew it was irrational, that there were no eyes on them here, no councils or superiors to posture for, but it was just habit to be on alert. To carefully monitor the way he interacted with Riza, in case someone was watching. He never wanted to give anyone a reason to separate them.
"You should have the bed, General," Riza said, her tone implying that it was the obvious answer.
A crooked, genuine smile came over Roy's face, a far cry from the polite mask he'd used on the concierge woman. "Please, Captain. I insist. Will you really argue with me?"
"Until my last breath, sir," Riza replied with a fleeting smile of her own.
Soon after, they returned downstairs to eat dinner at the hotel’s restaurant. The food was delicious and expensive and (thankfully) paid for by someone else, which allowed them to enjoy it all the more. When the server came by with wine at the beginning of the meal, Riza tried to refuse, but Roy insisted she have at least a little taste.
“I don’t really drink, sir,” she tried to say.
“Aerugonian wine is supposed to be the best in the world! It’s so hard to get any back home,” Roy told her as the server poured him a glass. “We’re on strict instructions to enjoy ourselves. I think you should try it.”
“One glass,” Riza relented.
Three glasses later, they were back in the hotel room, once more stumped by the dilemma of the lone bed.
“Hm, closet,” Roy said nonsensically, snapping his fingers. Riza turned to watch him open up the tiny closet by the door and fetch down the two spare blankets from the shelf within. “For you, mademoiselle,” he said as he presented one to her.
It was a small, thin thing that wasn’t altogether very soft, and she wasn’t even sure she would need it given how warm the room was. Still, she accepted it, and said, “Thank you, sir.”
Roy proceeded to grab a pillow off the bed, and told her, “I’m going to sleep in the bathtub, so use the bathroom now if you need to.”
Riza stared at him critically. “The bathtub?”
“The bathtub,” he agreed, nodding. “To give us both space. I’ve slept in a bathtub before. When I went west with Nadine. To get away from her snoring.”
Now Riza went as far as to raise her eyebrow. “Nadine?”
Roy leaned against the desk, tucking the pillow in his arms against his stomach. “One of Madam Christmas’ girls,” he clarified. “We went on a little trip west when I was, oh, I don’t know… fifteen? Very out of the blue, I didn’t figure out until later that it was because there was a threat to the bar.”
It was surprising to hear Roy speak so freely about his aunt and his childhood. Riza reasoned that it was likely a combination of a wine-loosened tongue and the fact that there were probably only a handful of people in the building who spoke their language.
“That’s… interesting,” Riza said, because it was. Roy’s life sounded so strange and whimsical to her, like the protagonist in a novel. Raised into espionage by his foster mother, with women of the night as his sisters and accomplices. It was made all the more mysterious by the fact that he hardly ever spoke of it, and when he did he was brief and vague, snips and snatches of information that Riza had put together over the years to form a tapestry of a past that could have built the man who stands before her now.
“The bathroom’s yours for a bit,” Roy repeated, followed by a stifled yawn.
She nodded and slipped into the bathroom for her nighttime rituals. When she emerged in her pajamas she felt a little self-conscious about just how much of her legs were exposed by the shorts. Usually anytime she had to spend the night anywhere outside her own apartment, she had her own room, or was sharing with other women. Roy had his eyes closed when she first opened the door, chin to his chest as his head hung drowsily. He looked up when she stepped out, and his gaze went to her face first, then dropped to the exposed inches of her thighs for only a second before bobbing back up to her eyes.
“Well, goodnight Captain,” he said, pushing himself off of the desk.
“Goodnight, General,” she returned. “Enjoy the bathtub, sir.”
Roy cracked a chuckle at that, making Riza smile. “I’ll do that.”
He retreated to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind him. He hadn’t meant to look at her legs, it just sort of happened. He had seen her wear skirts before, but none cut anywhere above the knee. The paleness of the skin there, untouched by sunlight, reminded him of her back.
Mouth dry, he leaned against the bathroom door, pushing his head back against the wood and staring at the electric light buzzing above him until his eyes hurt.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would drink less wine.