Series- Post manga or FMA:B
Characters/Pairing- Mustang and Hawkeye
Word Count- 433
Summary- Even now, Roy cannot escape his past.
He lazily rowed the small boat in an arc around the lake.His light blue shirt was unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. The warmth of the sun on his chest spread through his limbs, relaxing him even as he stroked. His hands gave him surprisingly little pain, and even gripping the oars felt good. He felt strong. He felt light. Over her head, he could see the ripples of the wake disturbing the glassy water.
He gazed at her. That half smile that he loved so was adorning her face. He couldn’t resist teasing her, saying that her blue bathing suit imitated their uniforms.
“I might just order bathing suits instead of miniskirts when I’m Fuhrer,” he suggested. She kicked him lightly in the shin with her bare foot, and her laughter tickled his ears. Birdsong echoed as she slid her toes up the inside of his thigh.
“If you do, you might be able to look, but you won’t get to touch.” She watched him arrange his features into a sulk. “So help me, I love how you look, even when you pout,” she sighed.
Carefully, so as not to upset the boat, she maneuvered her body around and slid backward to between his legs. His breathing gave a little catch, as it always did, when he looked at what he had done to her back. She rested against his chest, her head in the crook of his shoulder. He could smell her shampoo, a very faint honeysuckle. She seemed to enjoy the movement of his muscles working the oars as her head rocked with each pull. She began to hum the song that they had first danced to when they were teens. He kissed the top of her head as her hair fluttered in the breeze. Everything was so lovely that he didn’t want his eyes to close.
“I have something to ask of you.”
“You know I’d do anything for you.
“Yes. I know.”
There was something about her tone of voice…
“It has to be you.” Was that desperation he heard? Anger? She extended her right hand before her.
Her voice took on urgency. “This hand- it has killed and killed and killed. I can’t live with it anymore. It must not kill again. You have to burn it off.”
He slammed the book on his lap shut as he broke from his reverie. A tear fell from his eye. It was bad enough when his despicable past confronted him in his nightmares, but it felt like an ambush when it invaded his daydreams.