One hundred percent dedicated to the most amazing and beautiful beta! NekoiiXx! I love you!

There was something surreal about Riza Hawkeye when she wasn't holding a gun. Of course she was just as terrifying, but it looked almost as if she were missing a limb.

One Tuesday she came into the office with Roy's papers in hand, she dropped them onto his desk then stood upright. "Colonel." She said sternly and Roy bolted up from his nap.

"I wasn't asleep!" He insisted. Only Roy Mustang could insist he wasn't asleep when his distinct snores could be heard in every room in HQ. Not to mention the puddle of drool on his tinted mahogany desk.

Riza resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and saluted. It was at this moment that Roy noticed the absence of her gun. "Of course not sir," She said in her typical monotone, clearly not going to argue her point. Roy continued to gaze at the lieutenant's hand which so often carried a heavy burden. Those were the hands of a lady, Roy would know better than most, they should have been used for other purposes and not protecting the Colonel's sorry ass. "Sir," she saluted again when the lacking conversation became too much.

She fidgeted with her fingers, wondering what Roy had been staring at.

Roy was unable to finish his work as usual, but nonetheless he left at seven thirty. He walked his – now – natural, arrogant strut with one hand in his pocket rubbing circles around his ignition cloth gloves, in case he needed them. As he reached the main gate he saw his right hand woman and called out to her. Riza turned and smiled at him; her hands were still empty. "Colonel," she addressed him then shoved her hands in her pockets hastily when she saw the man looking at them. "You keep staring at my hands." She informed him.

Roy was silent, now staring into her eyes which were dark from the dim light that shone from the lonely street lamps. "They're beautiful hands lieutenant," he confessed.

Riza was silent; she gave him a sceptical look, and then slowly drew her right hand from the fold of the navy blue fabric. She held it up to Roy. "This is the hand of a murderer," she told him then dropped it to her side and clenched her fist, "it was only made to kill and protect."

A short silence followed. Roy was looking down; then, he snatched her hand and carefully weaved his hand in hers. He then pressed their palms together and entwined their fingers tenderly. Riza looked up at him uncertainly, but Roy just smirked, "hands are meant for other things as well."

The blond gave him a look that told him she was still not convinced. Then, she smiled. The two walked hand in hand for a distance, with the warmth of one another's touch accompanying them. They continued on until they had parted ways, and Roy decided that he'd rather she never hold a gun again, instead, Riza could use those hands to bring them even closer.

Of course with the path that he had chosen – this was just a mere fantasy.