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Ok, here you are: A collection of drabbles/short one shots of everyone's favorite pairing of all time, royai. This fic was written in honor of Royai Day, June 11. A big thanks goes to Demon Slaying Hanyou for sending me the list of themes, so thanks!
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters herein. They belong to the bespectacled cow, Hiromu Arakawa. Be thankful, because if I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, there would be no plot, and only royai.
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Military Personnel
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Of all the people in his office, there was one who held his attention longer than the rest. He would regularly cast his eyes around the room, looking at the subordinates who had followed him without question, examining their behavior.
Jean Havoc was regularly resting his head in his hands, an unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth. He never allowed smoking in the office, it was too small and cramped for him to allow anything of the sort. It was bad enough he regularly smoldered unneeded papers; he didn't need the stench of smoke and carcinogens floating around in the room. Havoc tended to procrastinate quite often, although he didn't feel the pain of punishment so often as the colonel, as he was only a Second Lieutenant and therefore had much less to do and less to catch up on. He admired Havoc, his wisecrack attitude was sometimes annoying, but it did help lessen the long days of tension in the office.
Heymans Breda was often in a similar position as Havoc, save the cigarette. No matter how alike the two were in attitude, Breda refused to be compared to Havoc in that respect. Most days he was doing his work, but sometimes out of the corner of his eye, he could see the stubborn Second Lieutenant scribbling down bets of the latest military pool. Although such events were strictly forbidden, he never turned the red-haired man in, partially because the bets lightened the spirit of the office, and also because he himself was sometimes involved.
It was Falman who he knew the least. The man had worked for Hughes before coming to work for himself, but he proved a good and sturdy aide. The older man was very down to earth, and sometimes it proved helpful, but other times it made him want to incinerate the grey-haired officer. He was probably one of the more diligent workers of his subordinates, often finishing work far before deadlines with literal accuracy. It was his reports that he hated reading the most, mostly because the monotonous sound of it, and it often made him consider taking a well-deserved nap. He did admire the man, though; he was useful and above all, extremely loyal and dedicated.
The youngest member of his group always sat the farthest away. Kain Fury, the communications specialist. He was a little wary of taking the young man into his group at first, partially because of his lack of experience, but Fury had proved invaluable. The black haired bespectacled young man's knowledge of technology astounded him, and saved him a lot of trouble from dealing with such nonsense.
It was always her his eyes rested on her the longest. More than often she was the first one done with paperwork since she was the most diligent of them all. Most of the time his eyes would flicker to look at her, she had her head rested on one hand while another held open a book that her gaze rested on. There was always a grin on her face when she read, and sometimes he found himself wishing she would look at him that way. She was the most loyal of all of his subordinates, and the one he admired the most. She had been with him the longest and go through any lengths to protect him, and something inside himself told him he would do the same for her. Often, when he looked at her he wold let his eyes trail over her thin frame, trying to see her form beneath the folds of her uniform. He wold eye her hands, callused from holding the gun she fired to protect him, and wondered what it would feel like to hold her hand in his own, or the feel of running a hand over her face, or the feel of her soft lips against his own.
Every time he let such thoughts get the better of him, however, he would be reminded of where he was by the click of a pistol. She never pointed it at him, just reached into her holster. It was enough. He would sigh, and continue with the monotonous paperwork, every once in a while flickering a soft gaze in her direction.