One Room, Chapter 1

After that night, Olivier hated hotels.

The ceiling was too white. It reminded her of whipped cream sprayed over hot chocolate, which only made her feel sick. She rolled onto her side, inhaling his scent, feeling the warmth of the space he once vacated. The room was stuffy but she couldn't be bothered to stand up and open the window.

Her reasons for staying at a hotel were justified. Skipping into the Armstrong Manor for a bedroom was neither here nor there, so she had no option but to book a room, although her plans prior to the alcohol were that she would have the room to herself. Somehow Major Miles managed to collapse into said room with her.

Again: she had her reasons.

And, for the moment, Olivier wanted to believe just alcohol was her reasons.

Roy Mustang being Roy Mustang decided to organise a little do before soldiers such as herself returned back to their headquarters and remained there until begged. Olivier wouldn't have tagged along if her subordinate didn't encourage her to, and with sheer reluctance she showed her face.

After giving a rather miserable greeting to the host and his darling Lieutenant, Olivier retreated to a corner and sat there with a bottle of alcohol, watching ridiculous military soldiers throw happy conversations with the becoming-Brigadier General Mustang. Unfortunately Olivier was more popular than she hoped, and received plenty of company, but it didn't take too long for said company to realise she wasn't the conversing type.

Miles vanished only minutes after arriving. Somehow the quarter-Ishvalan managed to be dragged into the crowds and be welcomed into gripping conversation, obliviously abandoning his Major General. She would manage, of course, with her alcohol. Olivier wasn't "depressed" as such. In fact, she found the mood pathetic. However after the events of The Promised Day her heart did throb with guilt and sorrow.

If she were to be honest, Olivier had lost a handful of men. She wasn't entirely used to this situation, and when it hit it hit her hard. Especially when she lost one of her most loyal soldiers and close friend. Captain Buccaneer didn't seem like the type to pass on. When she was informed of his parting, it struck Olivier quickly how easily a human could be killed. It was terrifying.

By ten in the evening she felt tempted to pat herself on the back for staying so long. She would have benefited more elsewhere. When the soothing music began to play and soppy couples decided to enter the floor, Olivier decided this was her cue to leave. She didn't have to search far for Miles though. He came stumbling over, a crooked smile plastered over his face.

She knew Miles well. She knew he wasn't a drinker. Which meant she also knew he was a lightweight. Her subordinate undoubtedly only drank a pint, but that was enough for his mind to go loopy and find the confidence to approach his commanding officer.

When he asked her to dance Olivier said "no".

'Sir. Have you ever heard the phrase "when an opportunity arises, take it"?'

She narrowed her eyes. 'I'm not even sure that is a phrase, Miles.' His dopiness was actually entertaining and she quite liked her Major this way. However at work she wouldn't approve. 'Go dance with someone else for all I care. I'm leaving.'

Olivier was convinced he was past the sober line when he claimed her wrist. Miles didn't flinch upon the contact either. 'I have danced with some people.' He then began to check people off with his fingers: 'Hawkeye, a couple of military women, Mustang––'

'What?'

'Mustang's sister, sir.'

'Ah. So you've danced with the entire female population within this room then?'

'Apart from you.'

She watched him for a while. Olivier wasn't fond on dancing. She had suffered enough embarrassing dance sessions when she was younger. Oh the horrific days she was forced to wear a dress.

But the way Miles was looking at her. It would be rotten of her to walk away and disappoint his succession, however there were limits between them. Heck, what was dancing going to do anyway and it wasn't as if Hawkeye and Mustang were keeping their hands to themselves! If they can do it, then why can't I?

Unsure whether this was to redeem herself, the effects of the alcohol or just wanting to do this Olivier took his hand and followed.

He was a much better dancer than she liked to believe. Given he had drunk himself stupid, Miles was actually quite smooth with his footwork and his cool presence eased her.

And that was how it all started. Olivier thought Mustang and Hawkeye would be at it, given they couldn't seem to take their eyes off each other that night, but, once again, Armstrong was proved wrong... by herself.

It was an hour past midnight when they left. Through their short journey to the hotel Olivier had previously booked, their hands remained clutched together. Maybe they were doing this so they could support each other. After all, the alcohol was beginning to churn in Olivier's belly and her vision wasn't this bad usually.

Why she didn't pay for another room Olivier would ponder over the next morning. In that moment, she couldn't care less and escorted Miles up the steps into her apartment before shoving him inside, locking the door. The male officer stretched, running a hand through his hair before falling against the wall.

'Is it me or is it hot in here?'

'It's just you.' Olivier took hold of his hand and a little roughly pushed him onto the bed. He sat on the end, eyelids half shut, body toppling to the side. She helped him out of his military coat and shirt, throwing them carelessly to the side. Just as she did that, her hand grazed over his firm chest and she paused.

Never had Olivier fantasised over her men. She was obsessed with other things –– more political and work-based. However she certainly approved with what she felt. Miles was a strong man, she knew that, but she didn't know there was a very attractive body beneath the blue cotton. Should she feel bad for not wondering over the mysteries of her soldiers?

She swallowed. Miles was right: it was hot in here.

'Let me fetch you some water.' Olivier sighed, realising Miles should be in trouble. Yet scolding would have to wait. There were other matters at hand and after everything the two had been through, who cared for yelling and being appropriate? Grabbing a glass from the cupboard and pouring in tap water, she closed her eyes, realising she needed sleep desperately.

When she passed Miles his glass, he took hold of it but her hand also. Olivier was about to pull away when he spoke: 'How are you feeling, sir?'

It was a very simple question, but for some reason Olivier took it to heart. Her form trembled and she wished Miles would let her go. 'Fine.' He caught her eye and she looked away. If there was one thing she hated about herself it would have to be her eyes. No matter how hard she tried, the person who could analyse and read quickly would know her inside and out. Her eyes were a giveaway.

'I don't think you are.'

'I think you're drunk.'

'I think you need to talk to me,' he whispered.

'I think you need to shut up.'

Miles gave in, releasing her. Olivier held her freed hand and kept her eyes on him. He drank his water sip by sip, allowing the pure liquid to cleanse his mind. After a while she reached and removed his shades before pulling out the tie to his hair. Long, white strands fell to his shoulders and, again, Olivier paused.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but she had never felt so attracted to a man before. Miles was gorgeous, and she felt diminished. His red pupils met hers and he frowned, eyes beginning to focus, his body strengthening. The tension was indeed sobering, especially for him. He had never witnessed this woman so close.

She shouldn't have stayed. But she did.

Olivier began to wonder if it was out of loneliness she kissed him. A close friend was gone and her second-in-command would soon be leaving to refurbish a corrupted land. She would be alone. It wasn't abandonment, but she hadn't a clue what would happen to him. Maybe it was fear. Maybe. Although Armstrong wasn't the fearing type.

During the time, it didn't matter. He didn't pull away and everything just made perfect sense whilst their limbs tangled together and they found each other. Even fatigued with alcohol Miles was hesitant and nervous. Olivier had to guide him most of the time, but he managed to catch on quickly.

She liked him close. She wanted him closer, and even when she pressed him to her, her legs wrapped around his waist, he wasn't close enough.

Her wounds hindered their lovemaking session, but it only made them think more and refocus. There was something about this which was right yet horrific. She knew by the end she would be confused. However Olivier didn't stop and neither did he.

'Don't go.'

Two words which meant so many. She mentally cursed herself for blurting something so pathetic and ridiculous out, but it would only hurt if she said nothing. Olivier had to speak for their sake. His smile made her ache and she hated herself for feeling this way. Miles had the courage to hold her close to him and whisper a promise he wouldn't leave.

He would though, of course. He was a realistic man, and only once did he decide to live in a fantasy with her.

Thinking back to the event now, dozing on her side, Olivier pondered whether she should have said anything at all. His "promise" only made things more complicated and worse between them. Then again she shouldn't have stayed anyway. Heck, if Olivier was even sober enough to book another room none of this would have happened.

A groan escaped her lips when she finally woke up properly. The Major General noticed she had rolled into the space Miles once vacated and she huffed, amused but hurt he had actually gone somewhere without informing her.

It was just sex.

Of course. Olivier wasn't a sucker for anyone, and intimacy wasn't something she took as an invitation to enter a romantic relationship. Anyway law got in the way, and they were lucky to have escaped this.

Slipping on her military uniform which, somehow, had ended up all over the room, the commanding officer began to think of where Miles went. There were many places. For all she knew he might have gone for good. Her heart stopped. No, Miles wasn't like that and why would he do that anyway?

He would be completely lost without her.

She hated herself for smirking at that.