#i mean carry on hawkeye exists too. it's a Thing for them lol

[marley-manson]

Comrades in Arms has so much gender role stuff going on and I'm very into it.

Brief preamble, masculinity and femininity aren't 'traits that men have' and 'traits that women have,' they're socially prescribed attributes that can vary from society to society and are forcibly assigned to men and women. I feel like I should mention this because in addition to good things I describe a few pretty negative things as feminine and that's because they are. Because most societies, especially 50s military society, want women to have traits such as passivity. Not because they're inherent to men and women.

So anyway, I'm just gonna dive right in. A lot of Hawkeye and Margaret's bickering in the first episode revolves around Hawkeye not being masculine enough. Margaret calls him a coward when he doesn't press forward through the shelling, Margaret gets angry when he can't fix the jeep ("How can a grown man be so mechanically incompetent?"), and she asks, "What kind of man are you?" in the next scene.

Hawkeye's attitude in return is wry self-awareness. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go into a mild panic," after the coward remark. Pretending to know what he's doing with the jeep with an exaggerated casualness ("Oh sure :) no problem :) I'll have this thing going in no time :)") before kicking it and then going "that's this right?" when she tells him to open the hood. Singing a jingle and joking that it's a civil war marching song and he's just trying to be military. And my favourite, Hawkeye's answer to Margaret's what kind of a man are you is, "Certainly not a serviceman," followed by, "There's a YMCA over here. Act like you got a moustache," and topped off with calling the hut he found "cute." There's also a moment where he is aware of something military (strategic significance of the hut), which surprises Margaret, and he pointedly downplays it by claiming he saw it in a movie.

My point being that the vibe is Margaret being consistently irritated that Hawkeye isn't performing a certain kind of military-flavoured masculinity, and Hawkeye knowing it and poking fun at her frustration. Margaret wants Hawkeye to be more military and more masculine in ways that go hand in hand, Hawkeye is resistant to that and plays up the opposite, both to bug her and because it's more genuine for him. He doesn't know how to fix a jeep, he is scared of bombs, he does cruise at YMCAs, etc

There's the fun scene with the debris and Hawkeye's injured leg, where they begin the sequence with Hawkeye on top of Margaret, shielding her, and Margaret mistaking Hawkeye's injury for an innuendo when he says he can't get off of her. Then they swap positions when Margaret examines and dresses the wound in his leg, complete with deliberate innuendo this time ("Margaret, there's no time for that now, look at my wound.") Which again, kinda highlights, advertantly or in, Hawkeye being more comfortable the less he has to conform to masculine standards. Not literally ofc, Hawkeye's obviously got no problem fucking women lmao, but as a joke that serves as a continuation of this gender role stuff I think it's fun and works well.

You can make a case that they start to get along when Margaret acts more accepting of Hawkeye's nonconformity. When Hawkeye says he's tough when he refuses morphine for the stitches and Margaret sarcastically says "uh huh," before he starts screaming. When Margaret opens up to him about the letter when he finally asks sincerely and Hawkeye listens and tries to be as genuinely supportive as he can. And when they start making out after Hawkeye commiserates with her about being scared and joins her in screaming his head off about the shelling.

The next morning this gets exaggerated in an interesting way. In the first half Margaret was outwardly tough and cold the majority of the time, insisting they drive through the shelling instead of running back where they came, checking the jeep herself, arming herself before going to bed. Even when telling Hawkeye about the letter, she insisted she was fine and that she prides herself on being able to adjust to anything. Hawkeye may not be masculine, but she is.

When they wake up, she's the opposite. Warm and affectionate, exaggerating her femininity in some ways (insisting on "making breakfast," fishing for compliments on her looks by being self-depricating, sudden passivity when they see a North Korean soldier and she irrationally insists they'll be fine and he won't come in), and emotionally "open" to the point of blatantly lying about or at least exaggerating how she feels (eg saying she loves his sense of humour after not getting a joke and before castigating him for making too many jokes a few scenes later).

She's playing an overly feminine role that doesn't suit her, but that she sees as the natural state of affairs for a man and a woman in a relationship, and she tries to shove Hawkeye into the appropriate type of masculine counterpoint. Most egregiously while treating him like one of her soldier boyfriends while she's panicking about being discovered ("Oh my brave soldier, you're wonderful, you're my inspiration," and, "I love to see a strong man who takes charge like that," lol), but also when she says she'll buy him a new shirt, assuming commitment and monogamy on his part, asking if he ever shaves ("Just my legs," says Hawkeye pointedly.)

Hawkeye is still Hawkeye - unmasculine, unmilitary, unable and unwilling to be the man Margaret invented for him. As he awkwardly goes along with it at first for whatever reason, he constantly looks like he's staring down a poisonous spider, and eventually he starts getting actively sarcastic in response.

Anyway, yadda yadda yadda, after an argument Margaret reverts back to her usual self and drops the feminized roleplaying, and when Hawkeye comes to her tent after the welcome back party, she finds a happy medium in genuine emotional openness, begun and encouraged by Hawkeye.

Essentially this episode explores Margaret's relationship with gender performance with Hawkeye as a counterpoint and, in the brief moments when they connect, mainly when they're screaming in terror together and in the last pre-tag scene, a parallel. Margaret starts off the episode as her usual masculine of centre, closed off, brusque self to Hawkeye's pointedly feminine-of-centre, emotionally open self. Halfway through, to Hawkeye's terrified bewilderment, she puts on a performance of femininity that doesn't reflect how she really feels, and in no way complements Hawkeye's gender expression, which isn't masculine enough to suit her and not saccharinely feminine enough to parallel her.

But at the end she finds she can still be herself, while adopting a little of Hawkeye's more healthy femininity in her newfound attempt to be emotionally open, and that's the place where she and Hawkeye click as friends. When they're sharing their feelings and commiserating and supporting each other. When she's not trying to be something she's not, and not trying to force or berate Hawkeye into being something he's not, and they can both just be a little gender non-conforming in their own ways that complement each other.

[queenwinry]

Propinquity

Pairing: Royai

Rating: K+

Words: 3093

A/N: ‘Propinquity’ is an eloquent and poetic word. This oneshot is not. Watch as I take a super meaningful prompt and turn it into the tropiest trope fest in existence, lol. My prompt for day 1 of Royai Week (and a happy Royai day to everyone!) 

Summary: “Propinquity: the state of being close to someone; proximity” 

The two military officers stepped through the doors of the run-down inn and out of the torrential downpour with a sigh of relief. The journey to the southern region had already been filled with hours sitting on uncomfortable train benches, missed connections, weather delays, and one very frazzled and annoyed Amestrian brigadier-general. When the fuhrer had suggested (or rather, commanded) General Mustang and his adjutant take the diplomatic trip, Roy hadn’t been expecting it to be such a fiasco. It had seemed like every little thing was systematically and purposefully working against him.

But finally, blessedly, Roy and his captain had made it to where they would be staying. No matter how dilapidated the old inn looked from the outside, the general was already dreaming of his awaiting bed.

“I’ll go check us in. Wait here, sir,” Captain Hawkeye spoke in a voice that was as tired and weary as Roy felt. He didn’t need to be told twice as he shook off a bit of the rain still dripping down his overcoat and set his suitcase down with a weighted ‘plunk’. The lobby of the old inn wasn’t much to speak of, but the general still took full advantage of the few empty chairs scattered about. His feet rejoiced once he sat down.

He mindlessly watched the rain pattering against the front windows for a while and twiddled his thumbs as he waited. He hoped this place at least had hot water. A shower and a warm bed were just what he needed.

It took far longer than it should have for the captain to return, and, upon taking a glance at her scrunched up face as she walked over to where he sat, a decisively dreaded feeling welled up inside of him. Now what’s wrong…

“Bad news, sir,” she began, her tone giving away her exhaustion. It seemed they were both at their wits end and not even remotely prepared to deal with yet another hiccup.

“What?” Roy gritted out, pinching the bridge of his nose as he braced himself.

“The woman at the front desk says our reservation isn’t in their book. She triple checked and there’s no sign of it, despite the fact that I called to confirm a few days ago.”

The general’s entire body slumped against the squeaking chair at her words. Hadn’t the universe thrown enough at them just trying to get here? The dreams of a hot shower and a clean bed were leaving his mind’s eye faster than the bullets exited his adjutant’s guns. “This place is one of the only decent hotels in the area. Are you saying we have no where to stay tonight?”

Giving him a sliver of hope, the captain tilted her head at his question. “Not exactly. They had to move some things around, and it’ll take a minute to get it ready, but they were able to reserve us at least one room for the night.”

The general eyed his body guard with a strange look, wondering why she still seemed so worried. A room was a room, and provided it had an actual bed, Roy didn’t really give a damn.

But, he also knew his captain well enough to guess what was running through her mind. One room, when they had specifically reserved two. It was like a bad romance novel come to life. The general understood Riza’s need for boundaries, especially now as he was rapidly climbing the ranks, but a few nights sharing a hotel room wouldn’t kill her, right?

Perhaps his sheer exhaustion was getting the better of him, because he simply stood to his feet slowly and gave a small shrug of his shoulders. “After the day we’ve had, I’d give anything for just a dry blanket and a shower. It’s not ideal, but I think we’re mature enough to handle it. If it’s alright with you, it’s alright with me.”

Riza seemed to weigh the general’s words for a moment, pondering her various options. He could tell she felt similarly in regards to having someplace to stay for the night. They’d been up since before dawn and it was easily past midnight. They were cold and drenched from having to walk all the way from the station in the rain and were in no mood to go searching for other options because they were afraid of sharing a bed. It was toeing dangerous waters, but not even the captain’s astute fastidiousness was going to get in the way of her desire for a good night’s sleep.

“Fine, we’ll make it work. But you better not snore,” she eventually spoke, gracing him with a small and weary smile. The general returned it and they waited together for the room to become available. Riza mumbled to herself a few times, wondering at what could have possibly happened between her calling to confirm the reservation and their names being completely wiped from the book. Roy had a few suspicions, especially given who the orchestrator of this entire trip was, but he kept his mouth shut for the time being. Best not to put any more unhelpful thoughts into her head.

After a short wait that felt like an eternity to the downtrodden soldiers, a mousy woman came out to inform them their room was ready. They picked up their soggy suitcases and trudged up to the third floor and all the way to their safe haven in room 315. The general paid the accumulated dust along the hallways and the overwhelming musty scent of the place no mind. When the captain turned the key in the lock, he almost let out a cry of relief.

Riza entered first, inspecting the perimeter like she always did. As Roy followed in behind her he couldn’t help but let out a scoff and a small shake of his head. “This place sure looks cozy. As usual, the military’s accommodations are impeccable,” he spoke sarcastically, closing the door behind them and setting his suitcase down next to what he could only assume was supposed to be a dresser. He let loose a sigh as he peeled the soaked overcoat off his shoulders. “You’d think after I finally made brigadier, I’d get more than some random two star dive.”

Still running basic security checks, the captain shot her superior an unphased look. “Border towns aren’t known for their kushy resorts, sir. We took what we could get. I do find it amusing that you’d deem this place worthy enough of two whole stars,” she spoke in her usual flat tone, though the general easily picked up on her own sarcastic edge and smirked at the comment.

“Maybe I’m feeling generous,” he continued to banter, as he sat on the foot of the bed and began to remove his soggy boots.

In a rare showing, Riza gave him a smirk of her own, as she began to remove her coat and boots as well. “Your attitude the entirety of this day would suggest otherwise.”

“Come on, you can’t blame me for that. Alphonse Elric would be grumpy after the day we had.”

The captain tilted her head to concede his point, her military jacket following her coat, revealing the many guns she carried on her person at all times. Casually disarming herself, Riza replied, “Our day should go down in history. I’ve never seen more things go wrong all at the same time than I did today. I still want to know how our reservation got lost.”

The general was silent a moment before he too shed his jacket and spoke conspiratorially. “It is all rather convenient, isn’t it?”

The captain’s brow furrowed as she discarded the last of her guns and opened her suitcase, seemingly searching for her night clothes and basic toiletries. The general tried to ignore how domestic this was beginning to feel. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Why would a place that houses maybe twenty people lose track of one reservation that you confirmed only a short while ago. I think more than the universe is working against us.”

Riza stopped her rifling to shoot her superior a skeptical look. “You’re saying all of this was somehow planned? For what purpose other than to piss us both off?”

“I don’t know,” Roy lied, ending the conversation there. He nodded to the bathroom, offering her the first shower, which she of course refused, before he gathered his things and began to get ready for bed.

The pair were silent after that, not wanting to fully acknowledge the fact that they were sharing a miniscule hotel room for the first time...well...ever. It wasn’t that it was awkward at all. They had known each other far too long to be uncomfortable in a setting like this. No, it was more that this was a bit too comfortable. Like they were a married couple settling into bed after a long day. Going about their nightly routines, neither of them acknowledged the fact.

After a (thankfully) hot shower and a quick change into his night clothes, the general settled into the frightfully small bed that could not possibly be considered a double. He mindlessly waited as his bedside lamp lit the area, listening to the water running as the captain showered, brushed her teeth, and then exited the steaming bathroom into the main space.

She was silent as she came to the empty side of the bed, clothed in a pair of crisp and clean pajamas. She quickly combed through her soaking blonde locks before lifting the blanket and settling in next to him. The general attempted to get comfortable, but her entire aura was rather distracting, and he already knew this was going to be an interesting night. Part of him wished he had just offered to sleep on the grimy floor, to save themselves the inevitable conversation.

Riza seemed wholly unphased, however, and a part of Roy he didn’t normally like to acknowledge bristled at the thought. He watched with a lifted eyebrow as she took one of the free pillows resting behind her and aligned it perfectly in the small space between them. Satisfied with her work, she pulled the thin comforter over her legs and settled in for the night.

Roy, however, wasn’t going to let that small move slide.

“Is that really necessary?” he suddenly asked, just as the captain was moving for the bedside lamp. She turned toward him in confusion.

“What?”

The general simply nodded to the pillow resting between them. “This,” he spoke simply, and a flash of understanding lit up Riza’s face before it scrunched in annoyance.

Letting out a sigh, she replied. “With all due respect, sir, I’d like to have some measure of propriety. Approximately ninety percent of the military would be in stitches if they found out we were sharing a bed. At least this gives us some distance.”

Roy couldn’t help the noise of distaste that bubbled out of him. “It’s taking up half the bed. There’s not a lot of space to speak of, Captain.”

“Yes, exactly. That’s the whole reason it’s there,” Riza threw back in a biting tone, clearly not interested in maintaining this conversation any longer.

“We’re adults, Hawkeye. I think we can manage one night sharing the same blanket.”

“Please, sir, just...just give me this one little thing.”

The tone of her voice stopped him, as her eyes avoided his own. He wasn’t really expecting the uncertainty he found there. Perhaps this was really jarring her more than she was letting on. Suddenly a feeling of guilt at having coerced her into this situation welled up inside of him.

Still, this was not a conversation either of them were even remotely prepared for, and he would probably just make everything worse seriously addressing any of it, so he simply huffed and turned his back to her, switching off his own bedside lamp. “Fine, but if I fall off this thing in the middle of the night I’m blaming you.”

A very familiar sigh escaped her before she too reached for the switch on her lamp. “A sacrifice I’m willing to make.”

“Goodnight, Captain,” he said into the darkness, his tone a touch softer than it had been.

Replying similarly, Riza spoke, “Goodnight, General.”

---

Turning over for seemingly the hundredth time in the past few hours, Roy was about ready to scream.

Of course, if he had done that, he would awake his blissfully unaware bed partner.

Really, in all his deepest, darkest fantasies, he had not imagined the two of them in bed together quite like this. Even with the rainstorm and it being the middle of the night, the southern region was proving itself to be as stiflingly hot as he remembered. There was no air conditioning to speak of in the old hotel, and he had angrily discarded the itchy blanket hours ago.

Hearing Riza’s deep breathing made him even angrier. How could she possibly sleep? They each had only a sliver of space to lay out on, thanks to her obtrusive pillow separating them, and the temperature of the room had to be astronomically high. He was about ready to turn traitor on Amestris (again) and march right back up to Central to murder the fuhrer.

Who he just knew had secretly arranged for their current situation, in some weird and misguided plot for great grandchildren.

Well, the current arrangements certainly weren’t helping his case, Roy thought bitterly. He’d rather sleep on the squeaking chairs in the lobby than this stifling room. In a fit of sleep-deprived anger, he yanked away the median pillow and threw it aside before quietly rising to his feet and heading to the small bathroom. He ran some water across his face to try and cool down, before searching somewhere in his exhausted brain for a solution to his insomnia.

Unsurprisingly coming up empty, he sighed and walked back into the bedroom, his foot scuffing across the floor in defeat. This whole trip was just going to be a waste for him, it seemed. He wouldn’t get any sleep, he’d suffocate in the southern heat, and would probably be too grumpy and annoyed to get any diplomatic work done.

And, he’d have to deal with Riza’s ‘pillow’ rule for the next two nights.

What he wouldn’t give to be back in his cluttered apartment in East City.

With one final sigh of defeat, he moved to get back in the bed, only to stop cold when his eyes drifted to his snoozing captain.

She had her back turned, practically hanging off the side as her chest slowly moved up and down with her deep breaths. But, it wasn’t her sleeping form that had him so shocked, it was the sight of her pajama shirt, riding midway up her back from her own twisting around in her sleep. Normally, Roy would have brushed it aside. He didn’t consider himself so depraved that a quick flash of skin would have him immovable. No, it was the horrifically familiar etchings on the skin that did him in.

It had been a while since he’d seen it. Years, in fact. He only remembered the elaborate tattoo in two ways: one, as a fresh recruit coming to offer help to his master’s orphaned daughter and being given far more than he ever expected, and two, as she was being nursed to health following Ishval. When he had burned the skin his eyes were looking upon with his own hands.

He’d never gotten to see the healing process after he’d asked her to come work under him. Though he’d been curious, it would have been far outside their new professional boundaries to ask that of her. So, even though he’d conjured it up in his mind’s eye, he never really had seen the tattoo marred and scarred over as it was now.

To say he was at a loss for words would be an understatement.

Her smooth and perfect skin with so much imperfection was jarring, and had him leaning against the side of the bed for balance. Even years later, he still couldn’t believe that he had done such a thing, that he had laid his hands on her and burned her for the rest of her life. She had told him multiple times not to dwell on the guilt. She had asked this of him, and still fastidiously stuck by her decision, even when the residual reminder would come back, in random bouts of aches and pain.

He still hated himself for it. He didn’t think he would ever stop.

A strange feeling suddenly overcame him, as his hand lightly reached out for the skin, ghosting across the marred edges to the familiar etched design. She was here and she was alive and after all they’d been through, especially since the Promised Day, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with a desire to just...be close.

Stifling hot room be damned.

Attempting to be quiet, lest she wake and start reaching for her guns, Roy reentered the bed, this time facing her back. He made sure to keep his movements discrete as he leaned over and watched the unsuspecting rise and fall of her chest. This was certainly one of the stupidest things he’d ever done (which was saying something, all things considered) but he found he really couldn’t help himself. The rare times he got to have her close to him were times he’d rather forget. Burning her back, watching as she bled out, hoping she’d still be alive and by his side where she belonged. To get to be close to her now, in such a benign setting, was a rare opportunity the general would not let slip away.

Making sure to stay just a touch behind her, Roy gently weaved his arm around the curve of her waist, in a gesture that felt simultaneously familiar and foreign. She squirmed a bit at the new sensation, but seemed to eventually settle in her sleep. The general let out a sigh of relief and laid back on the bed, allowing her quiet breaths to lull him into a much needed sleep while his thumb rubbed lazy circles along the scarred skin.

Certainly when they awoke in the morning, and Riza found the purposefully discarded pillow on the ground and her superior’s arm wrapped around her waist, there’d be hell to pay, but for now, Roy would be content with this. Having her right by his side, having her near to him, being oh so…

Close.