Fic: Thirst (FMA, Roy/Riza for Follie Bergere)
Title: Thirst
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy/Riza
Author: Descartes
Recipient: Follie Bergere
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Spoilers to ep. 37, angst
Summary: A quick drink after work.
Thirst
The day had been long one. Havoc’s latest fling dumped him for Roy, Fullmetal was still MIA, and information from Armstrong suggested the corruption extended all the way to the Fuhrer - not that Roy hadn’t expected it, but having confirmation was still disconcerting. He could feel his brows attempting to knit together, his face pinching up. Roy was thus only slightly surprised when the car pulled up in front of the bar he and Hughes had once frequented.
“This isn’t my house,” he said mildly, raising an eyebrow. Riza’s cinnamon eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror before focusing resolutely on the road in front of her.
“You looked thirsty,” she replied. Roy snorted, but didn’t bother to protest. The blonde exited the vehicle and came around to open Roy’s door for him. She waited unblinkingly beside it, saluting, as he swung his legs to the ground and stood up. Roy paused, then grabbed her by the elbow and wrenched her arm from its precise execution of protocol. She followed after him, surprisingly loose and willing in his hold.
He bought her first drink and had it placed in front of her within moments of getting his own. Bourbon for him, gin and tonic for her - Riza didn’t drink that fruity girly crap, would’ve been more upset if he’d gotten that for her.
“Colonel.” She glared at him, eyes frosty over the bridge of her nose as she held up her keys. Roy shook his head and pulled her onto the seat beside him.
“You look thirsty, too.” He didn’t look at her then, didn’t watch her - but then, he didn’t have to watch to know what she was doing. Roy sipped his own drink instead while Riza watched, her gaze thawing with each moment that passed until her hand wrapped around the glass. He only looked back at her when he heard the tell-tale clink of the glass returning to the bar. Roy signaled the bartender for a refill as he set his own empty tumbler on the table.
She looked beautiful, in the hazy smoke of the bar. His fingers itched to undue the precisely clipped hair, to watch her long blonde locks tumble over her sharp military collar. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her hair down while she was wearing her jacket. Her blue, blue jacket that contrasted just so with her pale features and dark eyes. Her eyes shone even in the dim light of the bar, focused intently on him. He liked that - being the focus of her world.
“You need to stop stealing the lieutenant’s girlfriends,” she said after a moment, her eyes fastened on the bartender rather than Roy. The corner of his lips quirked up.
“Oh? Being attractive causes me so many problems, but I don’t know how you expect me to fix that. Maybe I should start wearing an eye patch - women might leave me alone if I was disfigured.” Roy sipped at his second shot slowly, rather than tossing it back the way he had the first one.
“Some women are more persistent than to be put off by such a thing, Colonel.” Her voice was as sharp as the blades Ed - and where was that boy, anyway? - transformed after one too many short jokes, but her eyes were softer. She held her glass up and twisted her wrist, watching the translucent liquid swirl before taking a sip. “Perhaps you ought to try telling them you’re not interested.”
He shrugged. “The only man who isn’t interested in women as beautiful as mine is a gay one. I could tell them I was dating Fullmetal and have more people believe me.”
Riza almost choked on her gin at that, but she recovered fairly quickly.
“He’s not your type,” she said when she could breathe again. “Your preference for brunettes and red-heads has been well-noted by the general populace.”
Roy couldn’t have a fling with blonde. They weren’t serious enough, or their eyes were too blue. Their hair looked too pale, or too dark, or anything but golden. They didn’t have enough muscle tone to take him out, embarrassing though that could be. None of them had ever held a gun, or fought for what they believed in, or yelled at him when his mask got too audacious. None of them wore a neat bun, or had a dog he himself had wanted but been unable to take.
“I hadn’t realized people were talking about me like that,” he said softly before draining the rest of his glass and signaling for another.
She didn’t reply. The bar continued to buzz around them, full of their fellow officers. He hadn’t been back here since Maes… he hadn’t been here in a while. He should have been casually eavesdropping, just like the Lt. General two stools over was listening in on them, but his heart wasn’t in it. He polished off the shot in a single gulp and called for another, already passed the two drinks he usually kept himself to. Riza’s glass landed on the counter with deliberate force.
“Colonel.”
He nodded absently at her. Her face looked stern, disapproving, even, and maybe she was that a little. Her eyes, though. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her home with him, and not let anything bother them ever again. In theory, he could pass it off as a drunken moment - his “low tolerance” was well known, and at three - he knocked back the next shot - four shots to the wind, his enemies would believe him intoxicated. He could kiss her, and maybe she would even -
But then they’d be after her. Then they’d know. Not that they didn’t have an inkling, but… If they were ever sure - ! He’d let them be sure about Maes, because Maes wouldn’t hear of anything else. Armstrong was better, easier to protect, more willing to be cool to him in public. They left Riza because they thought she disapproved of him, but if she didn’t bring him up on harassment charges -
Roy rose from the bar stool, deliberately stumbling as he tossed a tip onto the bar. She let him waver as they headed towards the door. He knocked into a few people, trying to take a mental tally of everyone who had seen them here. No one really a threat, tonight. No one likely to think more of it than him ordering Riza to drive him here and refusing to let her wait in peace. He’d certainly done it often enough with Havoc to make that believable, too.
She opened the door for him, but let him get in on his own. The drive back to his home felt shorter than it should have, and somewhere along the way the alcohol began to catch up with him. He wobbled badly as he got out of the car. Why was he wobbling here? No one would be around to see, so no one would care if he didn’t look drunk now, and why was the grass so close to his face.
“Colonel…” Her arm wrapped around him, his head on her shoulder, his weight resting against her - but that wasn’t right, it should be the other way around, shouldn’t it, because she was a lady, and -
“Get some sleep, Colonel,” she said, and her body wasn’t against his any more. There were wrinkles on her face, but they weren’t the sharp kind from before. They were softer, and gentler, and -
“Riza…?” He struggled to sit up, but she pushed him flat again, a finger pressed against his lips.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Colonel.” She removed her finger from his lips and turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand before she could move away.
“Riza, you know that I -”
“I know… Roy…” She rested a hand against his cheek, leaned over him, and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, sighing. The hand he’d held squeezed his briefly and pulled itself free. “I know.”
She brushed the hair back from his face, and was gone. He fell asleep, and dreamt of the day when they didn’t have to do this any more. When they could be together, and no one would care. When he could finally marry her. Such a wonderful day…
* * * * *
When he arrived at the office the next morning, Riza took one look at his haggard appearance and glared at him before ignoring him completely - but there was a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water waiting on his desk, placed precisely where he couldn’t miss it but where no one else would find it. He downed two, and smiled. His headache was already vanishing.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairing: Roy/Riza
Author: Descartes
Recipient: Follie Bergere
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: Spoilers to ep. 37, angst
Summary: A quick drink after work.
Thirst
The day had been long one. Havoc’s latest fling dumped him for Roy, Fullmetal was still MIA, and information from Armstrong suggested the corruption extended all the way to the Fuhrer - not that Roy hadn’t expected it, but having confirmation was still disconcerting. He could feel his brows attempting to knit together, his face pinching up. Roy was thus only slightly surprised when the car pulled up in front of the bar he and Hughes had once frequented.
“This isn’t my house,” he said mildly, raising an eyebrow. Riza’s cinnamon eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror before focusing resolutely on the road in front of her.
“You looked thirsty,” she replied. Roy snorted, but didn’t bother to protest. The blonde exited the vehicle and came around to open Roy’s door for him. She waited unblinkingly beside it, saluting, as he swung his legs to the ground and stood up. Roy paused, then grabbed her by the elbow and wrenched her arm from its precise execution of protocol. She followed after him, surprisingly loose and willing in his hold.
He bought her first drink and had it placed in front of her within moments of getting his own. Bourbon for him, gin and tonic for her - Riza didn’t drink that fruity girly crap, would’ve been more upset if he’d gotten that for her.
“Colonel.” She glared at him, eyes frosty over the bridge of her nose as she held up her keys. Roy shook his head and pulled her onto the seat beside him.
“You look thirsty, too.” He didn’t look at her then, didn’t watch her - but then, he didn’t have to watch to know what she was doing. Roy sipped his own drink instead while Riza watched, her gaze thawing with each moment that passed until her hand wrapped around the glass. He only looked back at her when he heard the tell-tale clink of the glass returning to the bar. Roy signaled the bartender for a refill as he set his own empty tumbler on the table.
She looked beautiful, in the hazy smoke of the bar. His fingers itched to undue the precisely clipped hair, to watch her long blonde locks tumble over her sharp military collar. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her hair down while she was wearing her jacket. Her blue, blue jacket that contrasted just so with her pale features and dark eyes. Her eyes shone even in the dim light of the bar, focused intently on him. He liked that - being the focus of her world.
“You need to stop stealing the lieutenant’s girlfriends,” she said after a moment, her eyes fastened on the bartender rather than Roy. The corner of his lips quirked up.
“Oh? Being attractive causes me so many problems, but I don’t know how you expect me to fix that. Maybe I should start wearing an eye patch - women might leave me alone if I was disfigured.” Roy sipped at his second shot slowly, rather than tossing it back the way he had the first one.
“Some women are more persistent than to be put off by such a thing, Colonel.” Her voice was as sharp as the blades Ed - and where was that boy, anyway? - transformed after one too many short jokes, but her eyes were softer. She held her glass up and twisted her wrist, watching the translucent liquid swirl before taking a sip. “Perhaps you ought to try telling them you’re not interested.”
He shrugged. “The only man who isn’t interested in women as beautiful as mine is a gay one. I could tell them I was dating Fullmetal and have more people believe me.”
Riza almost choked on her gin at that, but she recovered fairly quickly.
“He’s not your type,” she said when she could breathe again. “Your preference for brunettes and red-heads has been well-noted by the general populace.”
Roy couldn’t have a fling with blonde. They weren’t serious enough, or their eyes were too blue. Their hair looked too pale, or too dark, or anything but golden. They didn’t have enough muscle tone to take him out, embarrassing though that could be. None of them had ever held a gun, or fought for what they believed in, or yelled at him when his mask got too audacious. None of them wore a neat bun, or had a dog he himself had wanted but been unable to take.
“I hadn’t realized people were talking about me like that,” he said softly before draining the rest of his glass and signaling for another.
She didn’t reply. The bar continued to buzz around them, full of their fellow officers. He hadn’t been back here since Maes… he hadn’t been here in a while. He should have been casually eavesdropping, just like the Lt. General two stools over was listening in on them, but his heart wasn’t in it. He polished off the shot in a single gulp and called for another, already passed the two drinks he usually kept himself to. Riza’s glass landed on the counter with deliberate force.
“Colonel.”
He nodded absently at her. Her face looked stern, disapproving, even, and maybe she was that a little. Her eyes, though. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to take her home with him, and not let anything bother them ever again. In theory, he could pass it off as a drunken moment - his “low tolerance” was well known, and at three - he knocked back the next shot - four shots to the wind, his enemies would believe him intoxicated. He could kiss her, and maybe she would even -
But then they’d be after her. Then they’d know. Not that they didn’t have an inkling, but… If they were ever sure - ! He’d let them be sure about Maes, because Maes wouldn’t hear of anything else. Armstrong was better, easier to protect, more willing to be cool to him in public. They left Riza because they thought she disapproved of him, but if she didn’t bring him up on harassment charges -
Roy rose from the bar stool, deliberately stumbling as he tossed a tip onto the bar. She let him waver as they headed towards the door. He knocked into a few people, trying to take a mental tally of everyone who had seen them here. No one really a threat, tonight. No one likely to think more of it than him ordering Riza to drive him here and refusing to let her wait in peace. He’d certainly done it often enough with Havoc to make that believable, too.
She opened the door for him, but let him get in on his own. The drive back to his home felt shorter than it should have, and somewhere along the way the alcohol began to catch up with him. He wobbled badly as he got out of the car. Why was he wobbling here? No one would be around to see, so no one would care if he didn’t look drunk now, and why was the grass so close to his face.
“Colonel…” Her arm wrapped around him, his head on her shoulder, his weight resting against her - but that wasn’t right, it should be the other way around, shouldn’t it, because she was a lady, and -
“Get some sleep, Colonel,” she said, and her body wasn’t against his any more. There were wrinkles on her face, but they weren’t the sharp kind from before. They were softer, and gentler, and -
“Riza…?” He struggled to sit up, but she pushed him flat again, a finger pressed against his lips.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Colonel.” She removed her finger from his lips and turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand before she could move away.
“Riza, you know that I -”
“I know… Roy…” She rested a hand against his cheek, leaned over him, and kissed his forehead. He closed his eyes, sighing. The hand he’d held squeezed his briefly and pulled itself free. “I know.”
She brushed the hair back from his face, and was gone. He fell asleep, and dreamt of the day when they didn’t have to do this any more. When they could be together, and no one would care. When he could finally marry her. Such a wonderful day…
* * * * *
When he arrived at the office the next morning, Riza took one look at his haggard appearance and glared at him before ignoring him completely - but there was a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water waiting on his desk, placed precisely where he couldn’t miss it but where no one else would find it. He downed two, and smiled. His headache was already vanishing.