Of Order and Chaos
Title: Of Order and Chaos
Pairing: Roy/Riza
Rating: PG
Word count: 984
Series: Brotherhood, no spoilers. Set whenever you deem appropriate.
Summary: A Messy living room, Roy’s hate for storms and Riza wondering how the man can always make her feel better. UST
A/N: New here, guys! :) beta’d by flybourne What would I do without you?
Roy Mustang disliked storms. In fact, he disliked storms so much that he hated them. Why did he hate them? Well, for one, it made him bloody useless. Water was his biggest enemy, and although Riza advised him to always keep an extra pair of gloves on his person, in case it rains and he was quote: ‘stupid enough to get them soaked’, it was easier said than done. It was the same dilemma every other person had when they went out: take the umbrella or not? Except in his case of course, they were gloves.
And he did not bring his extra pair of gloves.
Damn it.
Riza, if she found out, would give him that cold hard stare she loved handing out as if they were candy or something. Roy knew she had his best interest in heart, but really, you had to be in the receiving end of those cold stares to understand his predicament.
So now here he was, waiting for his gloves to be bone-dry while driving. It always made him uneasy whenever his gloves were wet, probably like Riza would feel if her firearm were to be out of bullets. Except that she had a stash of them strapped all over her body. Roy had not forgotten the time he had accidentally walked into a half-naked Riza, and in the midst of the loud cursing and pillow-throwing, he could’ve sworn he saw a pistol strapped to her bra. Huh, most women liked laces or something.
A loud clap of thunder distracted him from his thoughts; it really was getting heavy out there. Unless he ran in the building with both hands in pockets and the bouquet in his mouth, the gloves would yet again be drenched. But doing that would make him look ridiculous. He parked the car and weighed his options.
***
When Riza first agreed to support Roy Mustang, to follow him to the depths of hell, she didn’t take account of the alarmingly tall piles of research papers and empty coffee mugs she would have to deal with in her own house. Study sessions with Roy were exasperatingly untidy, caffeine-induced and somehow very efficient. Riza allowed a small smile as she picked up a few of Roy’s notes (5 o’clock, Linda. Waterside, don’t be late. Bring flowers) and placed them alongside the others. It was all only organised chaos if you had a closer look.
There was a quick and familiar knock at the door. Tap tap, pause, tap, pause, tap tap tap. It was absurdly simple but effective; something the two had come up with back when Roy was only an apprentice. Embarrassingly, Roy still referred to it as their secret knock but it was necessary and that was why they still used it. After a brief pause, in which Riza made absolute sure her revolver was strapped neatly to her waist (you could never be too sure), she opened the door.
Roy Mustang: hair wet and dishevelled, still wearing his uniform and soaked from the storm brewing outside. He also had flowers, orchids to be exact.
“Back so soon?” She let him in and then raised her eyebrows when he handed her the flowers.
“Thought your house needed some decorating. It looks disgusting in here.” He hung up his coat and headed straight for the kitchen. Probably coffee again.
“Would you like a reminder of why it looks disgusting?”
Roy only laughed, maybe even a little nervously. She placed the orchids in the vase Falman had proudly given Riza as a birthday present. The kettle went off just as she finished rearranging the flowers. She was right about the coffee, of course.
“Want something to eat with that coffee, Colonel?” Riza eyed the mug disapprovingly. Really, all that caffeine couldn’t be good for the body.
“No thanks, Riza. I’m just here to pick up the notes.” He insisted on calling her Riza when they were alone. It was strange really, seeing as they were having what Riza thought was a strictly platonic relationship.
“They’re inside Minds and Matters.” She nodded at her bookshelf and then watched him rifle through the colossal amount of papers.
“Yep, they’re all there. Good work Lieutenant,” but of course military terms always slipped in somehow, “I don’t know how you found the one that slid under the couch.”
“Are you telling me you knew that was there and still didn’t retrieve it?” She raised an eyebrow threateningly.
“Absolutely not!”
Riza gave him a long, hard stare, took in his soaked-puppy appearance and decided to let him off for this one. The note wasn’t too much out of reach anyway.
“Remember your coat.” She walked him to the door and watched him shrug the coat on. “And don’t forget to call me if there’s any progress.”
Roy nodded offhandedly.
“See you soon, Colonel.”
“Farewell Riza, dear.” His voice had that laughing tone about it, and Riza found it both amusing and frustrating that he had the nerve to call her dear.
Back in the house, she closed the door and collapsed on the nearest chair. Everything was miserable and quiet yet again. Well, other than the brutal thundering and lightening the storm brought. Sighing, she stood up to start the cleaning. Normally of course, she would point a gun at Roy if she had to, and make him help out. But these days, she figured he could use a break.
She looked around; the living room remained a mess. Coats were strewn over the couches, there was a chessboard with all its pieces cluttered everywhere (Riza’s win, obviously), there were notes and pencils and of course more than her share of store-bought coffee cups. The only thing looking orderly was that pompous bouquet of orchids sitting tauntingly on her bench.
Damn Roy and his ways of somehow making her feel better.
End