Moonlight filtered through the maple trees outside Roy Mustang's office windows. He looked up from the endless stacks of paperwork on his desk, pen in his hand stilling. The soft knock on his door sounded again, hesitant this time, and he called for them to enter.
The door opened without a sound. A lone figure stood in the doorway, haloed by the light emitted from the other room. Roy set the pen down on the file he had been staring blankly at for the past three hours, slowly rising from his seat.
They met in the middle of his office, standing less than an arm's length apart. Roy's hands trembled slightly; unsure of what to make of the reaction, he tucked them into his pockets. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to meet the measuring gaze of his guest. A smaller hand reached up to touch Roy's face, the backs of cool fingers trailing softly down his left cheek. He sighed quietly at the touch and allowed his eyes to close, his impenetrable defenses to fall. There was no need to keep up pretenses here, not here with this person, not now.
After a moment of silent, soothing contact, Roy opened his eyes, and his mouth to speak. The fingers pressed against his lips in a brief, quieting motion. The words died on his tongue, and he exhaled the breath meant to answer so many undefined questions. The look in the other's eyes told him that he didn't need to explain, that he never would need to.
Roy sank to his knees, wrapped his arms around the other's waist and pressed his cheek to the uniform so like his own. He felt safe, here with this person who worked with him every day and wasn't intimidated, who understood his mannerisms and quirks, who knew his past and still accepted him for who he was then, today, and could be in the future. Safe. For what might have been the first time in his life, Roy cried.