Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

AN: Written for the prompt "Rain" for Royai Week 2015.

Once Upon a Rainstorm

Roy lay in his hospital bed after berating his Lieutenant for her conduct in the battle against Lust. She bore his remonstrations admirably: she could always handle his shit. Looking around the room, he wondered how much longer he would have to stay there. Not only was the food worse than lackluster, but he also ended up having too much time to himself. When his gaze ventured out the window, he noticed that a storm was brewing; and not too far off in the distance. Seeing a thunderstorm on the horizon always brought back a myriad of sensations.

Roy loved the scent in the air that heralded an oncoming rainstorm. He didn't necessarily relish when his Lieutenant called him useless when it did indeed rain, but he truly enjoyed the aroma that accompanied the downpour. He especially liked the metallic zing caused by the reaction of oxygen with an electrical current. It always perked him up. He thought it must go back to his time living with the Hawkeyes: this would also explain his preference for storms in the country as opposed to the city. He ended up being happier at his teacher's home that he'd anticipated. Surely it had something to do with his friendship with Master Hawkeye's daughter.

On the occasion that neither Riza nor Roy had any pressing obligations, they would end up sitting on the covered front porch together. At times they would read, others they would talk and joke around, and then there were the times they watched storms roll in. They would pull two cushioned oak Adirondack chairs closer together, share a large glass of iced tea, chat on and off, and just watch nature's majesty unfurl before them. The wind would start to whip her hair around and she would attempt to pull it back with a hair-tie. But, inevitably, some lovely rogue strands would escape and catch what little sunlight remained. The excessive heat of the day would begin to dissipate and they could sit comfortably for the first time since the early morning chill had faded.

They would reach for the glass of iced tea at the same time, fingers enlaced for a thrilling moment and eyes locked, and then awkwardly yank their hands back. Cheeks would redden, gazes would drop, and they would both say, smiling, "Go ahead…no, you first." Eventually, they would figure it out and he'd always have this tingling sensation that lingered in his fingertips and then coursed through his body like a shockwave.

He thought that, somewhere along the timeline of their partnership, he'd stopped thinking of her that way. Of whether this was initiated by a need to protect her or for self-preservation he was uncertain. Because, through the course of years, their fingers would not infrequently brush, one would pull the other from the danger zone, he would get a whiff of her perfume as she walked, or he would (rarely) catch her gaze, and each time he would still feel that shockwave. During their time together, he would get these sporadic reminders that, if anything were to happen between them, it'd be like fireworks.

His thoughts returned to the Lust ordeal and his Lieutenant. Some of the time that passed after they entered the 5th Laboratory was a daze. The dark room he and Havoc entered was wet and he could hear the drip of leaking water somewhere. A woman emerged from the shadows and they were surprised to discover Havoc's girlfriend. He remembered black talons where normal fingers used to be, then came a scream of pain, and then more darkness. He thought they were both dead. This was all still part of the blur. It was the next part that was vivid: sights, sounds, smells, emotions, everything.

It was Hawkeye that brought him back to consciousness. He heard a horrible scream and knew it was her. All his senses started rushing back, vying for precedence. The room was full of shadow, he smelled blood and the mustiness of their location, he felt fear and so much pain, heard the scream and more shouting. His blood ran cold. Then he heard the pop, pop, pop of a nearly unending sequence of gunshots. There were so many and all he could think was that Hawkeye was emptying every clip she had into something. In other words, she was in danger.

Somehow, he managed to move, keeping his hand on his skewered abdomen and doing his best to keep from passing out from the pain. He let out a small sigh of relief upon discovering Havoc still alive, and then took his lighter and knife. The metal felt momentarily cool on his palm as he did the only thing he could think to do. He burnt the wound closed and carved his transmutation circle on the back of his hand. All the pain started to meld into one giant excruciating mess and he stifled a scream, the smell of burnt flesh and more blood rising to his nostrils.

He made is way slowly and agonizingly toward the room that was the source of the voices. As he neared it, he could finally make out some of the words from what before had been a cacophony of shouts and noise. He could hardly believe it: Alphonse was yelling at Hawkeye to get up and fight? That woman didn't know how to not fight. She'd given up? How is that possible? Hawkeye gives up for nothing and no-one. He passed through the doorway, saying something about how much he agreed with Alphonse's "no one else dies" philosophy.

He saw her: collapsed onto her hands and knees, head hanging, a pool of her tears on the floor. Oh, that black-haired bitch had to go. Roy Mustang saw red.

Later, after scolding her, he was surprised that she had no words for a retort. She just took the reprimands, probably taking all the blame with them. All he was capable of thinking about was how he had no clue what he would have done had she died. He didn't think he'd know what to do if she were gone. The last thing he wanted to do was lecture her about not giving up on life. However, he couldn't exactly tell his subordinate that the idea of her death made him feel lost.

Still, part of him wanted and needed to give her some indication of her importance to him, rules be damned. The rational part of him tried to reiterate that she likely would not reciprocate. But, he resolved to do something about it the next time he saw her. He just hoped he could keep up his nerve until she came back.

The storm was getting closer and Roy could see lighting and vaguely hear peals of thunder. No longer lost in his thoughts, he turned his head to have a better view out the window. Even if she was not there with him, the rain always made him feel like she was. He was just dozing off when the door opened and he heard footsteps approaching his bed. He was about to see who had arrived when Hawkeye stepped into his line of vision and sat in the chair to his right, between the window and the bed.

She seemed slightly agitated, which was strange to him. Hawkeye was rarely nervous about anything. He hit the button to move the bed, and thus himself, into a seated position to reach her eye level. The sky was darkened due to the storm and the lights were off in the hospital room. Her face was a compilation of shadows but he was still able to discern its various features. He could hear the storm, smell the rain, and see her fixing her hair, getting comfortable. Then they looked at each other and their eyes met; each gave the other a small smile. Hawkeye turned to look out the window.

"Did you come to watch the storm with me, Lieutenant?" Roy asked, with a small smile.

"Not exactly," she answered. "But I did notice the storm coming." After a brief pause she continued, "We haven't been able to do that in a long time." She was still looking out the window and Roy was able to see a profile view of her face. Her expression was pensive, with a barely perceptible smile.

"Look, Hawkeye, about earlier…I'm…" Roy began. Turning to look at him, Hawkeye interrupted him.

"Colonel," she said, holding up her hands to stop him. She sounded the slightest bit apprehensive. They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

"Hawkeye, there's something I have to tell you," Roy tried again.

Her response was just to look at him as though she was trying to figure out what he wanted to say by reading his expression.

"Mustang," she said. Roy was taken aback: she hadn't referred to him by just his last name in quite some time. Hawkeye then opened her mouth as if she wanted to say more, and then closed it. Suddenly, she stood up and turned toward the window running a hand through her hair. Perhaps the storm outside gave her confidence because when she turned back around she seemed more determined. She took a step toward him and sat next to him on the bed, facing him. Roy's eyes widened in shock and he tentatively reached out a hand.

Then, everything he had thought about for the past few hours came flooding back into his mind all at once: every worry, memory, emotion, and sensation. He wanted to tell her things, but they both knew that words weren't always their forte. If he couldn't use his words, if she wouldn't give him the chance, then he would show her. And hope she wasn't going to kill him.

Roy lifted his hand to her cheek and saw her eyes widen in response. Spurred on by the lack of violent retaliation, he moved a few strands of hair behind her ear and trailed his fingertips down her neck, never breaking eye contact. Her lips were slightly parted and her breath started to quicken along with his.

He felt her hand glide upward to run through his hair then down to rest on his chest, bringing herself closer to him. Her other hand was on his raised arm. Roy could feel the blood rushing through his body; he relished being this close to her, touching her. He brought his hand back up to her cheek, his fingers in her hair, and slowly brought his face closer to hers.

Then their lips met and it was electric: the tingle that accompanied every touch turned into shockwave after shockwave. He had one hand in her hair and the other reaching around her waist to pull her closer to him. They opened their lips to each other in unison, as though they had done this a thousand times before. Every fiber of his being burned.

They slowly separated and shared a look, giving each other a small smile. Roy kissed her again, then said, "That's pretty much what I wanted to say." Hawkeye smiled and grabbed his hand. Well, she hadn't shot him yet.

AN: This ended up being longer than anticipated. Not sure about a few parts so I may do some more editing later. I hope you like it!