WHOA! I'm in love with WHO?! (A Roy Mustang love story) {Never}

I peeked my eye open when I heard the door open and the now-usual sound of someone taking off heavy boots before I shut my eye again, trying to relax my head under the ice pack resting on my forehead. There was a sound of feet on the wooden floor of the hallway before a door opened somewhere upstairs and the sounds came down again. The sounds died out and I felt the cushion above my head sink slightly before two hands picked me up, gently, and laid my head in their lap. I opened my eyes and answered, “You know I was awake, right?”

“I don’t see you pulling away,” He remarked and threaded his fingers through my hair, gently resting his thumb under the towel that separated the ice from actually touching my skin. I leaned into the touch, closing my eyes and welcoming the comforting warmth that radiated from his body. He smirked down at me and continued, “How’s your head?”

“I’ll give you six guesses.”

“It still hurts, I see.” I hummed my answer and leaned into his hand, smiling. “Is there something about my hand that you’re enticed with?”

“Not really.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“I wasn’t implying you were.”

“Then answer me truthfully.”

“I like the feel,” I answered, blushing lightly. He chuckled at it and rubbed his thumb over my forehead a little more. Then that damn oven timer went off. I smiled up at him and opened my eyes, sitting up before jumping and placing the ice pack on the coffee table, standing up and walking into the kitchen. I stopped the ring on the timer and opened the oven, pulling out the casserole before closing it and dousing the flame by flipping off the gas. I rested the dish on the stove top to cool before I walked back out, smiling at Roy. “I hope you don’t mind, I was in a bit of a casserole mood today.”

“Not at all,” He smiled at me. “To be honest, casserole sounds pretty good right now.”

I smiled, shyly, and went to sit down beside him when he caught my wrist and tugged me into his lap. I squeaked slightly as he did so and blushed, hard, when I did (even though I would never admit to doing so). He wrapped his arms around me before I could let my mind catch up and, supposedly, get out. I blinked a few times and let out a breath before leaning into his arms, smirking up at him.

“How’d you know I wasn’t going to worm myself away?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in a fake-skeptical way.

“You didn’t this morning,” He replied, pulling my body closer into his chest.

“You were awake?” I asked jaw dropped in shock.

“I didn’t say that.”

“That’s bull; if you were asleep, how would you know?” Aw, crap.

He chuckled. “So, you admit you did, huh?”

I made a face at myself and leaned back in his arms, giving up. He reached up and rubbed my forehead a bit, smiling at me as my body fought to choose to lean into his hand or his arms. At last, he took pity on me and pulled my head down, resting it against his chest. He chuckled as I melted into him and he rested his chin on top of my head. I shut my eyes, breathing in his scent.

~*~*~

Blood—everywhere, nothing but that sickly-sweet, pungent decaying scent and red puddles of that life-keeping liquid all around me; splashes on walls, dripping slowly, trickling at a crawl off the brick; leaking out of wounds over their bodies, pooling in puddles under them; gun shots ringing out, destroying my ear drums; wooden and steel objects hitting flesh, breaking skin open and breaking bones with crunches.

I ran down the black corridor, whimpering every time blood splayed over the black walls that seemed to get darker and darker the farther I got. Splatter after splatter after splatter after puddles and dripping and crunches and everything—it was too much. I dropped to my knees when my name started being called from the darkness, the voice too familiar to ever leave my memory. The sweet, loving, caring, weakened-by-years-and-blood-loss voice rang through my head before a final shot blew and I heard myself scream. My blood was mingling in with that of my parents.

I sat up straight, breathing heavily as I rubbed my hand over my face, confused a bit. What the heck just happened?

“Is everything ok, Vivi?” I blinked, slowly, and looked over at Roy, forcing a light-hearted grin as I breathed out.

“Yeah, I just had a nightmare.”

“Seems like it’s the night, huh?” He mused, taking my far shoulder and pulling me down and resting his arm across the front of my chest. I turned to check the clock—two in the morning.

“You want to talk about it?” I offered, honestly.

“Only if you agree to two things,” He said, softly. “One, you won’t desert me for it.”

“Course not.” I promised, placing my hand on top of his to reassure him.

He didn’t seem too reassured about anything—more than anything, he seemed to not want to talk about it even more. I shut my eyes, slowly reopening them as he let out a long sigh. “And two, you have to tell me your nightmare, as well.”

“Fair enough,” I answered, shuddering at the memory—not that he’d know or anything.

He swallowed, quietly, before he let out another shaky sigh, starting it out as, “Years ago, at the war in Ishbal, there were four doctors from Resembool there.” Figures. I nodded, urging him to continue with a quick squeeze to his hand. “I know you know that Miss Rockbell’s parents didn’t- well, didn’t survive the war, even though your parents did. Do you know why?” He raised his eyes back to meet mine.

“The four of them were healing both Ishbalans and the Military, I know. My parents stopped when the warning was issued, but the Rockbell’s didn’t.”

“That makes it a little easier.” I cut him off, though.

“You don’t need to go any further. I think I get the story now.” I comforted.

“You do?”

I smiled at him and nodded, leaning over to nuzzle in his chest more. “What’s done is done and just by the fact that you’re having nightmares of it and you don’t want to talk about it tells me that you’re feeling guilty about it, yet another reason to hate Bradley.”

“Another reason to hate the military,” He corrected.

I shook my head at him, though. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty confident that the Military isn’t all like that.”

“Right—says the woman that’s constantly going on at how bad the Military is.”

“Yep,” I giggled, trying to make him feel better. “I can name the ten people off the top of my head that wouldn’t do it.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Grumman, Maes, Edward, Falman, Breda, Jean, Maria, Riza, Kain—I don’t think he has the constitution to do so, though—and you.”

He chuckled, nonetheless. “Thanks for that. Now, your dream.”

I frowned a bit and answered, “I saw my parents being murdered in front of my eyes and then I was shot in the knee. I think it was going to go farther than that, but I woke up.” I added, my voice getting quieter and quieter as I continued on.

His hand traced the contours of my arm as he muttered, “It’s just a dream.”

I opened my mouth to correct him, but found that my voice died in my throat. I closed it before I answered, “Yeah… just a dream.” With that done, I rolled over and buried my nose into his near-bare chest. He chuckled a bit and tightened his grip on my back.

“Are you going to be ok?”

I frowned and nodded into his chest. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Having the knowledge of how my parents died never stopped me before, did it? Why start hindering me anymore than usual now? “Oh… uh, Roy?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let go,” I muttered into his shirt.

I was actually a little shocked by his answer, but it made me smile after he paused and pulled up the blankets around us. “Never.”