Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ A Betting Crowd ❯ A Skirt by Any Other Name ( Chapter 1 )

A Betting Crowd

 

A Full Metal Alchemist fanfiction, By Serenanna

 

Part 1 - A Skirt by Any Other Name

 

Warnings and Disclaimers: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist or any of the characters. I'm just borrowing them to play with. I'll return them later after, promise. There is adult content and sexual situations in this story. So, if you're under 18, leave now before your virgin eyes are scarred forever, if you're over 18, enjoy! There is also aggressive teasing, rough foreplay, and creative use of office and library type settings in this fic, including elevators. Yes, I said elevators. If those hentai thoughts alone aren't enough to ward you off, hang on for the ride.

 

Story Notes: Time frame for this fic doesn't matter as my knowledge of FMA is a bit scattered but obviously before the ending and Maes's death. Also, this is a Roy and Riza fic along with implied Ed and Winry. This fic should be viewed as taking place between Overhaul, and Overhaul 2: The Tune Up (still being written) as there are some minor connections. Being this is fanfiction, liberties were taken with the actions of the characters and certain parts of the fic are not canonal, I just don't know which ones. Certain clichés usual to Roy and Riza fics are also being tossed out after having a lengthy discussion with a military vet and making sure the clichés weren't canon. If it goes against the grain of what you like in Roy/Riza fics, tough. I also don't know the exact layout of their offices, so I'm winging it. This fic hinges on substantially romantic plot, is really, really long in each chapter, and is considerably hentai. Read the above disclaimers again if you're still squeamish, but I assure you, it'll be worth it. No tubular pieces of fabric called skirts were harmed in the production of this dirty piece of smut . . . well . . .

 

**********

 

Why oh why was she doing this again? Riza Hawkeye asked herself as she tapped her heel in nervousness on the floor of the lift as it rode up the shaft to her office in Central. Oh right, she was doing this for the good of her friends in the military, even if none of them knew it yet. She deserved a metal from all the other female officers just for trying, even more so if she could pull it off. Hell, shutting down Roy's scheming alone made it worth the aggravation for just one day, one day. Those two words ran like a mantra through her head, one day, one day, just one day, one bloody day, she just had to survive one day in a skirt out of her own volition and all the men in Central would be begging her to put her pants back on. Or they'd be begging her for dates, especially Havoc. A shudder ran through the Lieutenant at that thought. This was all Colonel Mustang's fault anyway. If he hadn't opened his mouth, like he always did, about how women in the military should wear skirts, again, it wouldn't have started the whole argument . . . or the bet. She knew he was joking, like he always did, and she usually kept it to herself, but yesterday, she had finally snapped. It must have been the stress of excess work not being done, the goofing off, or the way he kept looking at her, that had started to grate on her usually calm nerves. All it took was one statement, and snap she did.

 

Riza was cleaning her guns when it started, pulling back the hammer and releasing it with a clink each time the jokes or his stares boring into the back of her head got to her. The rate at which she manipulated the gun only increased as the laughter of the men went on. She could handle it, even if she should have been yelling at them to get back to work. She always found a way to deal with it afterwards, usually taking it out on the target range. And she was used to his arrogance and mild sexism. So he thought he was god's gift to women-kind. He was allowed it a little to her since the only person who took the act seriously was himself and the poor girls he seduced. Roy wouldn't know a real woman if one came up and slapped him across the face. At least he respected her and her work. To that end, she was used to Roy Mustang and his ways, or so she thought. That day wasn't any different. She just needed to blow off steam in the range when they were all done. Yet, all it took was just one sentence to finally get to her, “I'm sure Lieutenant Hawkeye could wear a skirt, and none of us would know the difference.”

 

The safety on the gun in her hand clicked off and she accidentally, or intentionally, fired a shot that went straight up, embedded into the ceiling. They all went silent and stared at her, waiting for an outburst that would have come if rational thought hadn't kicked into Riza Hawkeye. Suddenly this wasn't an office joke anymore. With one flippant sentence, Roy had turned it into a personal challenge to her sense of self as a woman. Was she that invisible to him? Did he hate her that much, even if she kept on top of him for his own good? Was he that arrogant to underestimate her? Did he even still respect her like she still afforded him? She knew him well enough, or so she thought, yet this was a different game between them now, and the blond Lieutenant could feel it.

 

He was challenging her, the tone of it in his voice when he said it, and he liked challenging people and pulling their strings. She always did know that he liked fire, and loved playing with it even more, but she suddenly had to wonder how many time he got burnt. Regardless, he had crossed the line, and the thought of pulling him back in his place made her all too giddy as an idea entered her mind. It was a thought of pure insanity, but . . . if it worked, Roy Mustang would never want to see her in a skirt in their office again. But could she do it? She heard a snort of laughter behind her, and suddenly she knew she could, if only for the Colonel's own good. He would notice her, they all would, or she was no woman. “Twenty says I can wear a skirt, and not only turn the heads of every male in Headquarters, but also get you to rethink your ideas,” Riza said as she fished a bill out of her wallet, holding it in the air between two fingers as if she was tipping a waiter.

 

The challenge was accepted. Havoc practically ripped the money from her hand as she heard Roy's laughter turn into a snicker, “You're that confident you can change my mind? How are you going to do that? Drive us all to distraction?”

 

“What's the matter? Afraid I might do just that?” she asked softly, turning in her chair slightly to look at him, her brown eyes curious and innocent even if the curl of her lips was anything but. There was something igniting in his dark eyes, and she couldn't tell if it was a touch of jealousy or just his arrogance again. Before she knew it, Roy had slapped down another twenty into Jean Havoc's hands, the pile of money growing, “You're on, Lieutenant, you have leave to wear whatever you want tomorrow as long as it looks remotely like the rest of the uniforms, I'm sure you won't disappoint us.”

 

The betting continued unabated, and Roy disappeared back into his office. She had the dignity not to blush at the obviously flirtatious come on the Colonel added in. He didn't mean it, anyway, he never did. He had always casually flirted with her since that first day when she'd been assigned under him, but he always went home with a different woman each night. He also pushed for miniskirts in uniforms back then too. Those few months when she started working in the office, she hated him, but that was until their first assignment ended in a firefight. Somewhere in the middle of that battle, whatever façade Roy had been hiding behind slipped, replaced with a haunted look as they were forced to kill their target, a group of Ishbal rebels who still believed the war was going on. In the aftermath, he let her in as to why he wanted to become Furhrer, to stop history from repeating itself. After that, she respected him, and devoted her work to his cause, if only so she didn't have to see that look on his face again. To think that all happened about seven years ago, before chimeras, and the Elric brothers. He still flirted with her, mildly, and still dated women with intelligence scores equal to the caliber of her guns. For all his teasing, he never actually followed through, or changed too much either. Him and his scheming over skirts, of all things. Riza's brown eyes hardened, and she went back to polishing one of her firearms. Silently, she swore retribution for this. One way or another, Roy and his scheming was going down by her hand.

 

That had been the end of it in her mind till she went home to make good on winning her bet. She had just the thing too, remembering the outfit from when she passed training. It was her first dress uniform before the policies changed when longer skirts were enforced for formal occasions over the shorter skirts. She had a soft spot in her heart for it though, except for that skirt. The coat she always loved over her jacket and the black overcoats, which was why she saved it. Her aesthetics though demanded some revisions of it. After updating the uniform with the insignias of her current rank, and securing a pet sitter for Black Hayate, she went to bed that night, feeling more confidant than she had in a long time.

 

Apparently that confidence was showing as she stepped off the lift and into the fourth floor atrium. The short jacket she usually wore was replaced with a blue and silver trimmed trench coat with gold braids similar in style over her black turtleneck and shoulder holster. The skirt underneath ran straight down her legs to mid thigh, slit up the back seam with a overlap that opened with each stride she took. It was short, and tight, like he kept asking for. A fear ran through her that the black garter belt she wore underneath would flash or pop loose the moment she sat down. It was bad enough that the shaded tops of the sheer nude stockings she choose flashed between steps as she walked. Maybe she shouldn't have worn them as stockings were a little excessive given the expense of silk and hand-sewn production. On second thought, it would be worth it when she turned around, the line of seams down the back accenting her legs. Riza even upped her hand with dangerously pointed, and dangerously high heeled black shoes. And to think she even put on some light make-up too. But, given the reaction her outfit had even before she entered the building, Roy and the men would never know what hit them.

 

Coming up the steps to the building, one of the teenage aides running around dropped a stack of about 500 pages and folders he was carrying in her wake. One of the guys repairing the carpentry in the main hall stumbled over a board when she smiled at him. It had been gratifying, enhancing her step with confidence as her heels clicked on the floor. The crowd of blue uniforms was thick today on their floor as she made her way through, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of pants. The Lieutenant could feel eyes on her as she walked, the hallway parting like a school of fish before her stride. It would be just her luck that word of their bet had made it all over Headquarters, and as more heads turned towards her, she was sure it had. Every man she passed did a double-take, bumped into something or someone, got smacked in the head by other female officers, or worse. Most of them just outright stopped and stared. Even a few of the women stopped and looked. If looks could kill, she probably would have died a thousand deaths from the jealous stares. Riza hadn't felt so much like an object before, but . . . there was a thrill of power to it as well, knowing men and women alike were looking and thinking similar if opposing thoughts.

 

She walked up to the office doorway, her grin widening along with her stride. Just as the First Lieutenant was about to walk in, Private Scieszka came running up to her, the librarian yanking her away from the door before could even say hello, “What in the world-?”

 

“Have you gone daft?!” she asked hysterically, glancing around at the looming audience of men watching the two women. Riza blinked, not knowing for the life of her what she was talking about. “It's all over Central, the Library, Headquarters, I can't believe you even showed up today!” she screeched, trying to keep her voice and her panic down, “Do you have any idea how much this'll set back the women in the military if you fail?”

 

A smirk spread across Riza's lip, her hunches proving right, “I should have known this little war would be public, I'm not going to fail that easily, Private, or have you looked around at the male species yet today? You'd think all of them never saw a woman in a skirt and heels before.”

 

The last statement she said a little too loud for a private conversation. Glancing over her shoulder, most of the crowd suddenly looking very interested in anything but them or were moving along. She looked back at Scieszka, smiling as a blush crept onto the young woman's face. “How did you find out anyway?” Riza asked finally.

 

“Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, he found out about the betting pool after hours and started spreading it around,” the brown-haired young woman admitted as she adjusted her glasses, “Most of Central is in on it now.”

 

Riza blinked, “They're all betting? On me?”

 

“Most of the women are, along with Hughes, Armstrong, and the Elrics.”

 

“What?! Who let those two into the pool? They're not old enough to bet!”

 

“Well, Fullmetal is fifteen, and I heard what he's going through, I've also seen him blushing as soon as Miss Winry Rockbell's name is mentioned, and then denying anything when I ask, it's probably only a matter of time, and Alphonse isn't that dumb either for a little boy trapped in hulking chunk of metal, I'd say they're entitled being treated like adults now . . . besides, I heard him mutter something about serving the bastard Colonel right.”

 

Sighing, Riza let it go as the Private had a point. It was useless to worry over their innocence and the lack there of, even if she knew it was the military lifestyle corrupting those two boys. And the last thing she wanted to learn about was Edward Elric's social life. They were growing up far too quickly. “I don't wanna know anymore, just tell me the odds, please?” she asked, changing the topic

 

“The men ran up the odds to 1 to 20 that you'll win, the Colonel's odds are 2 to 1 that he'll still swear us all to skirts anyway regardless if you win or lose.”

 

Suddenly, Hawkeye felt like shooting something as her heel tapped dangerous on the stone floor. So everyone was confident that she'd fail or be ignored, huh? And her odds were 1 to 20? So she was the dark horse huh? Suddenly she felt like putting more money on the bet if her odds were that low, but . . . she had to win it. “Don't worry, Private, you'll keep your pants, they don't know who they're messing with,” Riza said dangerously, her brown eyes burrowing holes in the door.

 

Scieszka smiled despite the wrongness of that statement, liking the look on her superior's face, “Yes, Lieutenant, our hope is riding on you, along with my thirty, good luck.”

 

As she bounded away, Riza finally opened the door and walked in, her anger freezing into an icy stare. Apparently the men had all arrived early for the spectacle, a shocking change from their usual tardiness. They were all at their desks and had their noses buried in paperwork when she walked in, another change from normal that made her start to wonder. But then again, the work was forgotten as soon as she walked over to her own desk, her stare turning into a calculating look when they finally noticed her. Havoc reached for the tissues like they were life-preservers, a raging nosebleed starting as soon as she cracked a smile in his direction. Both Fuery and Breda looked like their eyes were about to pop out of their heads, glued in their seats as she dropped her bag on her desk, standing just to the side of it for full effect. Once his nose was under control, Jean looked up and stared as well, something about him reminding her of a deer frozen by car headlights. “Don't you three have work to do?” She asked as she glanced at the papers on her desk, all of them meant for the Colonel, “Is he in?”

 

Fuery seemed to find his voice first of the three of them, blinking rapidly with a slight twitch to his head as he looked back down at his papers, “Yes, First Lieutenant, but um . . .”

 

“Um, what, Sergeant Major?”

 

“He might be napping . . .?”

 

Napping, this early in the morning? Usually he saved them for the lazy afternoons this summer. Riza growled, and patted her underarm and hip to make sure her guns were in place before taking off the coat and throwing it over her chair. She grabbed the papers on the desk and stormed towards the door, three pairs of eyes following her movement. Once she was gone, Kain was the first one to speak, exhaling slowly till it can out like a sigh, “Now I know why Black Hayate listens to her, guns and all.”

 

“We never should have gotten that pool going, we're all gonna lose,” Havoc said, his voice nasal from the twists of tissues up his nose, “The Colonel's gonna be ruined.”

 

“Ruined? This may be the best damned thing to happen in this office for months, when it's all over, maybe the Colonel will finally listen to Hawkeye's advice, and maybe she'll finally remove the stick from her ass,” Breda muttered before grinning at the thought.

 

“It's a nice ass too . . .” Havoc added, grabbing more tissues. Just then, the door to Colonel Mustang's office slammed shut with a bang the reverberated through the office, including the windows. The three men looked at the door with a mixture of curiosity and horror, wondering what exactly happened even if they knew it was all Riza's doing. Havoc broke the silence first, asking almost rhetorically, “We never stood a chance in hell of winning, did we?”

 

“Well . . .” Breda started to say before Fuery cut him off, “No, we didn't, men never stood a chance of winning anything the moment women stepped onto the land.”

 

“Really? Not all of them seem that . . . diabolically conniving . . .” Havoc said as he glanced at the Colonel's door, wondering why it was silent after the bang except for the three of them, “And I didn't know that you were that philosophical when it came to the opposite sex, Fuery.”

 

“I was interested in human biology and behavior for a while, trying to draw correlations between us and animals in regards to the sexes, I couldn't find too much, but I've found that any man can be brought low by a woman if she knows that they're our greatest weakness, any man can be undone by a single glance from a woman if she knows her power, First Lieutenant Hawkeye, it appears, realizes this now as well, she's no mere opponent and co-worker like we assumed under her calm demeanor, I think we all have forgotten how female she can be, the Colonel must have pushed into a corner enough that she's realized how to push back,” Fuery explained as the two men stared at him, their jaws dropping open, the new philosophical level apparently going over their heads, before he added, “Or she just looks good in a miniskirt and heels, and she knows it.”

 

He grinned as the two co-workers laughed nervously, all three of them returning to their paper work. Of course they wouldn't understand women or their latent powers over men, especially Havoc and the Colonel. As soon as they did, and respected the opposite sex for it, then maybe all the talk of enforcing skirts on women would stop, or at very least, they'd get dates for more than one night. Fuery held back a sigh, glancing down at the endless stacks of papers and folders. At least he was comforted in knowing he'd win the side bets he had going over who would have the first nosebleed of the day. Havoc was always nice and predictable like that.

 

**********

 

Roy sat in his chair, tilted back as the morning sun shone down into his office, lightly snoring. God, he was tired. The night before had been terrible for his sleep, waking up almost every hour till his clock struck about three in the morning. He hadn't tossed and turned that bad in months, but at least he was comforted in knowing why he couldn't sleep rather than from the usual nightmares. It was Riza and that damned bet. Why did he have to open his mouth and say that? It had been so callous of him given all she did for him, but . . . he did have to admit some of the truth to it. He did rarely notice any of the women in their service, the uniforms so shapeless and blending that if it wasn't for obvious features, and names, sometime he wouldn't even know the difference. But still, he shouldn't have called her out by name. It was an entirely too personal line he had crossed between them, but once she issued the bet, there was no turning back. And in truth, he admired his First Lieutenant even more for stepping up to the challenge rather than just berating him for the insult. What was the worst she could do anyway? It was just a short skirt.

 

But of course, it was just the thought of her in a skirt that kept him up last night, his mind unable to shut down long enough to sleep. How exactly would she look in a skirt anyway? She had promised to turn every head in Central, which had to be impossible unless she somehow had the shortest, tightest skirt in creation and the legs to back it up. That didn't seem like the Riza he knew at all, or was it? It was exactly those possibilities that kept him up the night before, thinking about the one woman who was almost an enigma to him. After all this time, he didn't know what his First Lieutenant was truly capable of except for shooting really well, filling out paperwork, and covering his ass. She was his friend and co-worker, not his enemy, but suddenly she was all three. In all his political machinations, Riza as his enemy was a concept he had trouble grasping. Roy had unwittingly set himself up for a surprise assault and he knew it. He wouldn't cave though as crawled into the office early that morning to rest and prepare himself for the impending battle. His will was stronger than hers, he knew that. He'd dealt with tougher matters than his promised policy over skirts for female officers if and when he became Fuehrer. This was nothing at all but office politics among friends, right? A little, harmless war he was sure to win, right? Besides, what power could one flimsy garment possess?

 

Colonel Mustang was blissfully unaware as he napped on while Riza Hawkeye stepped into his office, a deep frown marring her pink-tinted lips. So Fuery was right, and the dark-haired man before her was out like a light. Her frown turned into a smirk as she gripped the papers. She cleared her voice, loudly, hoping it would wake him, but Roy only snored on. Riza's anger was quickly rising, her heel tapping on the hard floor. If this was any other day, she would have nudged him awake by now, but as she quickly reminded herself, this wasn't a normal day of office antics. This was war, one she was intending to win at all costs. Her foot kicked the door hard and it slammed shut with a force that shook the walls. Roy instantly jumped at the sound, his dark eyes wide awake and glaring around for the source of the disturbance in his slumber. Unfortunately his tilted chair jumped too, sliding out from under him as he fell on the floor before he even knew she was in the room. Riza sighed, not surprised in the least by the groaning coming from behind the desk. “Good Morning, sir,” she said lightly while walking around the right hand side.

 

Roy paled, recognizing her voice as he closed his eyes, “Lieutenant Hawkeye? For a moment I thought it was Major Armstrong knocking down my door.”

 

“You wish,” she said as she put the papers down, her hip cocked to the side, “I'm sure dealing with the Major would be more delightful to you than these new papers.”

 

The Colonel was sprawled on the floor, his head against the wall as his legs were curled up awkwardly under the desk. His eyes were also tightly shut as he also knew from the closeness of her voice that he really, really, didn't want to look up at her right now. After a silent moment, a pointed shoe kicked him in the side, making him yelp and finally open his eyes, “You can't stay down there all day, sir.”

 

As his dark eyes focused on Riza Hawkeye, he suddenly wished he could. His jaw dropped open of its own accord and his mind went completely blank, unprepared as his opponent loomed over him, tapping her black heels on the floor. From his vantage point, he could very clearly see the tops of her stockings, the metal ends of black lace garters, and a slight bit of flesh, the rest hidden by the blue wool of her short, but not immodestly short, skirt. He'd seen less fabric on more women, but something about what she didn't reveal shot straight from his mind into his loins. Before he could think to say something, her foot kicked his side again, propelling reality into his head as he started to get up. Turning away from her, he found his chair, righting it as he tried to clear his head. This was wholly unexpected from his subordinate as he took his seat, wide awake now. Before Roy knew it, a pen was shoved into his hand as she motioned to the brand new stack of papers on his desk. “These need to be authorized by the end of the day, sir, and the Elrics should be here this morning to check in before their trip to Rizembool,” Riza said as she shuffled the other items around on his usually messy desk, slightly bent over as she reached for a set of loose paper clips.

 

Staring was hard to avoid for the Colonel as her skirt noticeably rose up, noting the lines down the back of her stockings that accented the shape to her legs. She was taller then he thought, and paler, which seemed to suit her more. Her words almost went right over his head as it took most of his control not to want to touch the delicate material covering her limbs and skin underneath. It was only when she moved away that he finally pulled his wandering wanton thoughts back together enough to remember what she had said, “Um, sure, I'll get right on top of it . . .”

 

Wincing at the unintentional innuendo, Roy quickly fixated on the page in front of him. He heard Riza stopped and turn around as if she expected something from him. What did she want? An acknowledgement of their wager? An opening move? Knowing he had to look up at her again eventually today, his eyes slowly drifted up. For some reason, her gun belt and shoulder harness stuck out more so than usual, along with her figure, making it very hard to find where to look without revealing too much of his thoughts. Roy settled for looking at the Lieutenant's mouth, which was partially curled back into a smile that could quickly turn into a smirk. She was far too pleased with herself, and he was far too disappointed with himself as well. Every moment he spent looking at her felt like caving in just that much more. The Colonel's brow furrowed and he looked back down at the paper before him, “Was there anything else, Lieutenant?”

 

“No, sir, just that you look tired,” Riza said as he bit back a groan, “I hope today isn't too hard on you . . . sir.”

 

Roy looked up, thankful he wasn't the only one with a mildly dirty mind, “Thank you, Lieutenant, I'm sure it'll go a lot easier with you around.”

 

Somehow, a slight sarcastic bitterness entered his voice, bringing a frown to the blonde's lips. Was he baiting her for an argument? Did he really mean it? Or was he teasing her? Riza didn't know, but it didn't lessen her anger at his attitude, her brown eyes boring into him, “What's that suppose to mean?”

 

“Uhhh,” The Colonel fumbled for an answer, the fury in her brown eyes making him second guess his gut feeling. His mind drew blanks, something about the look on her face and the mounting tension in her crossed arms making him feel awkward around her. It was very odd of a reaction for him since he was usually very good around women. The skirt wasn't helping either as his eyes kept drifting downwards on their own. Thinking fast, Roy went with his best policy when dealing with angry females, denial, “Absolutely nothing, Lieutenant, have a nice day.”

 

Her anger only grew at his answer, fingers itching to grab a gun and pull the trigger. Deny, deny, deny, all he did sometimes when she caught him was deny till she could prove him wrong. He meant something with what he said or else he wouldn't have said it, and it was getting to her. Roy usually didn't get to her this bad, but ever since the day before . . . Riza Hawkeye's cool temper was running painfully short. “Fine . . . sir,” she ground out between her teeth, forcing herself to remain neutral, “I'm sure we're talk more later, right?”

 

“Right . . . Lieutenant,” he said, not mistaking her meaning for anything else. The tension in the air was thick, the weight of it making his eyes take another look over her figure. Her legs kept making his mind go blank as much as the anger in her eyes. Damn, why couldn't he think today around her? But he could think, and only of one thing that kept going through his head as she turned around and went for the door. All he could think about was simply that how nice she looked. She seemed so much more mature, and professional, even if it was unpractical as all hell on a battlefield. He couldn't figure out how he hadn't noticed her before. For a slight moment, Roy forgot that this was war. If there wasn't an argument between them, he probably would have made an inappropriate advance by now, the image of what he'd seen under that short skirt flashing before his eyes. For that daring alone, she deserved a compliment, one already half out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Riza?” Roy said as she turned and looked at him, something widening in her brown eyes as his mouth moved on its own, “You look . . .”

 

“Yes?”

 

Reality sunk in as he heard the other men laughing from the other side of the door, Havoc's voice in particular. Suddenly, he felt like a chicken, like he was giving up just by complimenting her. Riza had started the bet. She accepted his unintentional insult and turned it into this. And as much as he might like her to win . . . Roy's resolve hardened. It was for the good of the military, and for the good of himself. That was comfort enough, right? “You look nice today, I knew you would too, you should wear miniskirts more often,” he said as he hunched over the papers, pretending to work on them, “I'm sure the other female officers will look just as well in something more feminine.”

 

He didn't need to see the reaction smeared across her face to know that he'd hit deep. Surely she'd finally kill him now right? Instead he heard her heels on the floor, and he looked up, excepting to see the face of death coming towards him. Instead, Roy watched Riza Hawkeye's rear swing back and forth with intent as she strode out of the office, stopping only to grab a box of ammunition he knew she kept in her desk. She was gone before anyone could stop her, catching his eyes on hers when she turned in the doorway out into the hall. Her glare was as hard and as cold as stone in winter, sending a chill down his spine along with regret. He shouldn't have done that. The door slammed shut with a thunderous bang, and all the men jumped. With a long groan, Colonel Mustang let go of his composure and thumped his head on his desk, “I'm so dead.”

 

**********

 

After an hour, Riza came back, much more relieved it seemed, and without her box of bullets. It had felt good at the shooting range as she put all of that ammo to use. The technicians were probably still wincing though as most of the shots ended up in the crotch of the human-shaped targets when she normally went for head and chest shots. She stared at the Colonel now and then through the open door to his office, her eyes promising much retribution . . . she just hadn't come up with a plan yet. Like he'd change his mind at all just because she wanted him to. He was still a man after all, and she was still angrier than a pissed off cat. She sighed, putting down her pen a moment to stretch her hand. They were all being well behaved today, including Roy, who at least seemed interested in his work every time she glanced in his direction. Maybe he was just avoiding her look too. She had the rest of the day to figure out how to change his mind, maybe it would come to her eventually. Just as she was about to get back to work, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes stepped in from the hallway with the Elric brothers not far behind him. Silently, Riza was grateful, at least until she noticed the officer's eyes falling on her exposed and crossed legs, like everyone else's had since she came in this morning. Maes gaped, apparently fumbling for words as she frowned before finally saying, “Good morning to you too, he's in his office.”

 

“Ah, right, morning, um, Riza-um, Lieutenant” he muttered before almost running into the Colonel's office and closing the door. At least there was one bright side to Maes's quick retreat; he didn't whip out any photos. She turned towards the Elrics, smiling again as she saw the grin on Edward's face, “Good morning, I hope you're both ready for your trip back to Rizembool.”

 

“Yes, ma'am,” Al's hollow voice rang through the armor as his brother nodded, the grin on his face stuck. Riza tilted her head curiously, wondering what the young man was thinking. Obviously it wasn't the same as the other men as his eyes only glanced once at the skirt and her legs. If anything, he seemed distracted. But . . . it still annoyed her. “Something you're particularly happy about this morning, FullMetal?” she asked, her eyebrows arching upwards.

 

“Nothing,” he answered far too quickly, “Just going to be a good day.”

 

“He's happy because he got to use the phone without Lieutenant Colonel Hughes knowing it as I distracted him,” Al added in a low voice as Ed gawked at him in shock then started shaking the living armor as he cried out under the torment, “But, brother! You never said not to tell her!”

 

Riza laughed softly, hiding her amusement behind her hand till Al got a handle on his flailing older brother before he dented his metal body. “But you almost told her it was Winry I was calling, you're so dense sometimes!” Edward whispered in a voice that was too desperate to be quiet and too soft to be overheard by anyone but her.

 

“Sorry, brother . . . but it's just Winry, and you kind of just mentioned it yourself . . .” Alphonse said as the alchemist sagged with a groan of realization. Not laughing any more, but still amused, she smiled remembering what Private Scieszka had told her earlier. They were growing up too fast, Edward the most it seemed. “It's alright, I won't mention it to anyone,” Riza said while pointing to the phone on her desk, “Next time, you can use mine, I know I'm far less nosy than the Lieutenant Colonel.”

 

Edward looked grateful, grinning again as he shoved his hands in his pockets. She blinked, still wondering about the expression on the young alchemist's face and where it came from. At least he wasn't as lecherous as the rest of the men on staff who were twice his age and double as childish. Yet, there was still something in the older Elric's eyes that made her suspicious. “Thinking of something or someone, Ed?” she asked curiously as he hopped up to sit on her desk while Al took a seat next to the office door.

 

“Just that I'll be richer by the end of the day,” Ed said as his grin got even funnier, “I almost feel sorry for that bast-err, Mustang, and the poor taste of the guys betting for him to win.”

 

Riza smiled a moment, touched, till she remembered who she talking to. “You boys shouldn't be gambling, you're lucky I haven't taken it upon myself to punish whoever let you two in on it,” she said with a disapproving frown, shifting around the stack of papers on her desk before she added with a slight smile, “At least you chose the right side.”

 

“You do look nice today, Miss Hawkeye, for a girl,” Al added as she turned in her chair to look at him. That was about the first compliment all day that she had gotten that wasn't accompanied by roving eyes. Coming from Alphonse only made it seemed more honest and genuine. The small smile on Riza's face lit up, making her feel more confident, “Thank you, Al, that was sweet of you to say.”

 

If the suit of armor could have smiled back, or blushed, it probably would, but Al just nodded his head instead. There was a snicker of laughter from across the office that sounded like Havoc, only to be choked back as soon as Riza's head snapped in his direction. A slight blush spread over Jean's face, telling the Lieutenant all she needed to know as her brown eyes rolled upwards. It was no wonder the Second Lieutenant couldn't keep a girl if he kept snickering like that when he heard a truthful compliment to a lady. To the side of her, Edward smirked too, “You know he bet the most against you aside from running the pool, right?”

 

“That doesn't surprise me,” Riza said as she went back to filling out a form, “His belief in Roy is bigger than Roy's own ego.”

 

“Think he'll try something to mess you up?”

 

“Naw, this is between me and the Colonel, he stuck his foot in his mouth, I'm just making sure it's thoroughly lodged there so he wouldn't forget it when I help him remove it,” she muttered and started checking boxes on the page. Ed laughed and pulled out his pocket watch, looking at the time. He quickly flipped it closed and shoved it into his pants pocket. “They are taking a while, he always does this, I bet you never have to wait for him,” he muttered glancing at the door, “If we're late for that train . . .”

 

“I'll make sure you guys leave on time, stop worrying, have I ever let anyone in this department down?” she smiled, glancing at the door herself.

 

“Not yet,” Ed said, “But there's a first time for everything.”

 

On that point, the young alchemist was right.

 

**********

 

“I'm so dead,” Roy said again as his friend pulled up a chair across from him, “If I try to touch her, she'll kill me, if I even look at her, she'll kill me, if I say one more thing that's either perverted or close to being offensive, she'll kill me, I can't think straight, can't react, and I sure as hell can't resist for very much longer, look at me, I'm doing work just so I don't have to face her again today, but I can't keep it up, what the hell am I suppose to do? I can't let the men down by letting her win, but . . . damned if she isn't proving her point, what can I do?”

 

To Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, watching Colonel Mustang crack because of a woman was very entertaining in and of itself, even more so than watching his co-workers crack as he showed off his little Elysia's pictures. And to think it was all because of Riza Hawkeye in a short skirt. He knew it would happen one day when Roy finally opened his goddamned eyes, he just didn't think it would be today or happening so quickly. He also didn't think she would have pulled out that many stops in regards to her choice of apparel and grooming. Even married, Maes had been tempted to look and found it hard to resist looking away. But it amused him more that Roy was taking it so hard, and even more amusing was that he was being asked for advice after he'd bet against the Colonel, who was obviously desperate. This was a most advantageous position to be in during a war, right in the middle with the scales resting firmly in his hands, but he could just as easily be caught in the crossfire too.

 

If he won, he could get his little girl a new doll and his wife a set of earrings he knew she would love. He had so many other reasons to tell Roy to cave too, if only for his own good. He'd known for a while why Riza did what she did for her Colonel's career, quietly and thanklessly, and it wasn't until recently that his friend actually noticed it. But Roy always was an arrogant bastard no matter how much someone cared for him. If he knew Riza's silent guardianship of him, the Colonel never let it show or let on about returning her feelings, even if they gave off more tension around each other then an armory of loaded guns. The two of them were like two porcupines in love, too afraid of themselves and each other to even touch. They just needed a nudge in the right direction . . . but maybe this bet was more like a hammer to the head than a nudge. Maes wanted so badly to tell Roy what he needed to hear about the Lieutenant, but couldn't, the glare of quiet desperation on the Colonel's face enough indication that now might not be the time. “She's still Riza, Roy, just in a skirt and heels,” Maes pointed it, the amused grin slipping onto his face, “Just . . . pull it together and act normal.”

 

“Pull it together? Your sage advice to me as a man that deals with a beautiful wife everyday is to pull it together?” Roy muttered, not liking what he was hearing, “She may be just a woman in a skirt, but she's also packing two guns and an agenda that she will ask me about before the end of the day, and I have to say yes, I want to oogle you and every other woman officer on a daily basis by making you wear skirts when I become Fuehrer just because I promised a bunch of lonely officers to do just that,” he paused, eyebrows arched and pressed together as he looked at Maes, “Or I give in.”

 

“Is giving in so bad?” the Lieutenant Colonel offered as he adjusted his glasses, “I don't know about you, but Gracia would kill me if every woman that walked into my office every day dressed like that and called me sir.”

 

“Maybe it just takes getting use to, it wouldn't so shocking if we were all used to seeing legs and skin around here rather than blue upon blue,” Roy said with a grin, “This is about the most androgynously dressed military in creation as we are wearing half-skirts over our pants to begin with.”

 

“You avoided my question.”

 

“No, I side-stepped it,” the dark-haired man said as he tilted back in his chair, “I can't give in to her, it's not an option, it'll make me look weak to the men, even if the women will hate me, but most of them do anyway.”

 

“So you'd rather make you First Lieutenant hate you along with the rest of the sisterhood than lose face? Is not giving in really that important?” Maes asked pointedly, knowing that while Riza may never hate Roy completely, she'd definitely not care for him any more. It was a bad move to make, one that slowly dawned on Roy as he suddenly looked more serious. The Colonel shrugged then sighed, back to square one in the argument in his head, “It's not that much of a life or death choice is it?”

 

“In the scheme of things, it's a bigger question of if you become Fuehrer or not, Bradley could outlive us all and make this whole thing moot.”

 

“Then why is it such a big deal? I know it's a personal matter to Riza but . . .” Roy said then sighed, rubbing the side of his head, “I don't know what to think, it's too personal for public debate, but now too public for us to settle it privately, I wish we could just call it off.”

 

“I should have kept my mouth shut, huh?” Maes asked with a grin, “Maybe you should just try to talk to her, over lunch or something, with a table between you both so you're not distracted.”

 

“No, if you didn't put it into the rumor mill, Havoc would have, I just didn't think the betting pool would get this big,” the Colonel said before letting the suggestion sink in. He could talk to her, maybe, in private, without sticking his foot in his mouth again, maybe. It did seem awfully like fraternizing with the enemy though, nay, almost like a date with the enemy. He didn't like that idea as he glared at Hughes, “I don't think she'd listen if I asked her to call it off, lunch or no.”

 

Maes shrugged, running out of advice without spilling the beans. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, Roy needed a strong nudge that Riza, “She's your subordinate, but she's also your friend as much as I am, she could listen if you ordered her to, besides, she's also a woman, I thought you handled them well.”

 

“This is Riza we're talking about, how many time do I have to point it out? She's not just some woman, if there's one female alive that immune to my charm, it's her, and even then . . .” Roy started before glancing down at his desk, “I don't want to charm her even if I could, it just feels wrong to put the moves on her just to win an argument.”

 

“Then there's always succumbing, but it takes a strong man to admit defeat.”

 

“I'm not defeated by her, not yet.”

 

“Then if I may suggest again, just talk to her, even wars have parleys; besides, you may even learn more about your enemy.”

 

“Thanks Maes, even if I know you're betting against me,” Roy said with a smirk as Lieutenant Colonel Hughes stood up. No, he wasn't about to let that tiny mutiny go unnoticed or eventually unpunished. The door opened just as they were finishing, Riza stepping into the room, a fresh stack of forms in her hands. Watching amused, Maes noticed as the Colonel's dark eyes immediately glued onto the First Lieutenant's figure. “Um, sir?” she asked, “I hate to interrupt, but you wanted to see FullMetal before he left for Rizembool?”

 

Roy's face went blank a moment before he blinked, “Oh, um, right, send him in.”

 

“I'm afraid I can't, sir.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“He already left for the station with Alphonse, Havoc is escorting them there now,” Riza said, schooling a vacant look on her face to hide her amusement. So it was a vicious idea she had while waiting with Edward for the Colonel to finish talking with Hughes, to play dumb like his usual dates if only to get his goat. As a look of annoyance spread over Roy's face, she was sure it was working. His expression only got harder to control as Maes snickered, trying to hide it behind a gloved hand. “Lieutenant, if the kids are gone, then why are we having this discussion now instead of before they left?” he asked, one eyebrow almost twitching at her, obviously getting angry, “You knew I wanted to talked to FullMetal before his leave, why didn't you interrupt me earlier?”

 

With a slow walk, Riza approached the desk, gently depositing the papers on the surface as she bent over slightly. Roy's eyes naturally followed the curves of her body underneath all that cloth, making him sink lower in the chair as she reached across the desk to grab his finished work. She looked at the Colonel, her face still vapid and her voice guilelessly devoid of intelligence, even if her brown eyes sparkled with mirth, “Because, sir, you didn't tell me to tell you.”

 

She turned and walked out the door as Roy's mouth dropped open once she wasn't looking, his eyes back on her legs. Once she was gone, Maes chuckled harder from his spot standing across the room, pushing his glasses back up his nose. He had to hand it to her. That was cleverer than he thought, and more effective on Roy, who looked like he just got slapped. She had the type of woman the Colonel dated down to a science, and made a half-decent actress. “Did that sound like insubordination to you?” Roy asked as the shock wore off, “Or more like contempt?”

 

“Actually, it sounded more like victory, maybe you should cave, she's got you beat,” Maes said as he chuckled more, getting a glare from Roy, “She is proving to be one heck of distraction, you have to admit.”

 

“No kidding, you haven't reached for your photos once.”

 

“I didn't know you were that interested in them, I just got a new roll developed of summer by the lake, Elysia looks so cute playing by the lake, and with the fish, and-.”

 

“Maes . . .” there was a slight touch of angry annoyance in the Colonel's voice

 

“Right, you're obviously whipped enough as it is.”

 

“Maes . . .” the level of anger slowly rose in Roy's voice that out did the annoyance, along with the look of certain fiery death in his glare. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes took that as a good sign to retreat, waving as he quickly exited the office. But before he left completely, there was just one thing he had to mention as he stuck his head back through the office door, “You know, sometimes it is more interesting to let the fairer sex win, you might actually like it once you try it.”

 

A flurry of white paper greeted Maes's last bit of advice as Roy flung them at him. Hughes slammed the door, avoiding the salvo completely. Alone again, the Colonel groaned at the mess his office had become along with the rest of his day. He wasn't whipped, was he? For a moment, resentment entered his mind against Riza's mothering of his career, a nagging fear that he wasn't in control anymore of his own destiny. Ok, maybe it wasn't that bad. He was grateful for when she did save his bacon. Maybe he wasn't thankful as much to her face as he should have been, but he was still in control of his own life, right? Roy didn't like being this introspective as it always seemed to bring up bad memories. He didn't dare mention his past involvement in the Ishbal war to anyone in Central, not even to Riza. They needed to believe in someone without blood on their hands, someone who wasn't the real him. Even Roy couldn't bear the real him sometimes, the shame too great along with the memories. The men of his unit all stuck by him, but would they still there if they knew the truth? He was a murderous dog of the state just like the other alchemy-wielding mutts this place churned out, but would his men still love him for it?

 

In his darkest moment, Roy could feel his mask of perfected arrogance and egotism slip. This was one of them. A look of fear that he'd worked so hard to cover slid over his eyes for the briefest of seconds. No, none of them would ever know this side of him, not till he was sure they wouldn't abandon him at the first test of loyalty. His eyes closed then slowly opened, the annoyed look coming back as the mask was in place again. Perhaps this was Riza's test, to see if she'd still follow him even if she didn't agree with him. Perhaps this was his test as well, to see if he could actually resist a woman in a short skirt. He did have a penchant for torturing himself some times, maybe this was just another case. With a groan, Roy banged his head on his desk, trying to focus the many tangents into one coherent line of action. He needed to do something to nip this game before it went too far. Maybe the Lieutenant Colonel was right. He did need to talk to her, eventually, it could be his way out if he could control himself. Inhaling deeply, Roy felt a little more confident on what he would do, apologize, cancel the bet like a man, be her friend again, and all without flirting, staring at her legs, sticking his foot in his mouth, or losing his head. “I can do this . . .” he muttered to himself till Riza opened the door again, nearly stepping on the papers at her feet.

 

“Sir . . .” she said tensely, glaring at him for the mess, “Major Armstrong to see you, I'll give you a minute.”

 

His eyes were stuck between her legs and the pissed off look on her face till she finally turned away and walked out again. As soon as she was gone, Roy knew it was one thing talk a good plan, and another to put it into action.

 

**********

 

After spending the rest of the morning listening to Major Armstrong give his report on the situation in the remains of Ishbal, Roy was never so glad to dismiss him as the noon bell rung. It was lunchtime. The Colonel finished signing a few forms once the too tall and too muscular officer was gone, hurrying out of his office in the hopes to catch Riza before she left for lunch as well. What he found instead were empty desks except for Breda, who looked confused to see him in such a hurry. “Where's the First Lieutenant? And why hasn't anyone returned these yet?” he asked as he grabbed a pile of books left on one of the filing cabinets.

 

“Lunch, after brushing off Major Armstrong,” he said as Roy tried not to choke on the news. Something seemed to snap in the pit of his stomach, a feeling he couldn't place a finger on, but knew he didn't like it. Before revealing too much to Heyman, the Colonel looked at him blankly, “Right, why would she need to brush off the Major, anyway?”

 

“You know the Major and women, his luck is almost as good as yours, he was complimenting Riza and stuff before she left, even asked her to lunch and kissed her hand, she was quite besotted, but turned him down, saying it would be inappropriate,” Breda said, watching closely at the dark-haired officer's reaction. For a moment, there was a flash of fire in Roy's dark eyes and Heyman had to hold down his grin. Maybe the little lie was too much. Telling him that Hawkeye had liked Armstrong's flirting was a bit much, when in reality she went white as a sheet when asked out to lunch by him. Roy didn't know that though. And for his efforts, it looked very much like his superior was cracking despite the look of disgust. “Thank you, Breda, I'm sure I needed to know that much about Armstrong's love life,” the Colonel said, his face somewhere between green and red, maybe puce, “I think I'll hit the lavatories before lunch and the library, where is she now?”

 

“Probably out on the steps eating since it's a good day, she brought a lunch today.”

 

“Thank you, and make sure to get some files I requested from Investigations, Hughes knows which ones I needed,” Roy said, bitterness in his voice that made Breda almost smile. But that might be giving away his hand. The Colonel stopped paying attention as he went for the door, ignoring the officer as he called after, “Yes, sir, have a good lunch.”

 

As Mustang left, Breda's grin widened, twirling in his chair in triumph. It looked like he was winning his bet about Roy and Riza being in love after all. Now if he had proof before the end of the day, Havoc would owe him a whole pile of money.

 

***********

 

Storming down the hall after leaving the office, Colonel Roy Mustang was a different man, glaring straight ahead as if he could burn whoever lay in his path alive with just a glance. Ever since he listened to Breda's little piece of office gossip, he couldn't get the nasty image from his head no matter how hard he tried. It only served to feed his anger. Armstrong flirting with Riza, his Riza. Wait, since when did she become his Riza? The possessiveness of that thought didn't strike him as odd, neither did his mounting jealousy. She was one of his officers, she was his. How could he just-? Before he knew it, Roy had run up the back stairwell of Headquarters to the roof. Alone, the Flame Alchemist let out a long frustrated roar, scaring away the pigeons roosting there. It was followed by a long stream of curses as he dropped the books tucked under his arm, nearly throwing them away. His fingers clicked every few seconds in his anger, letting off a small fireball that flew up with a small poof. Somehow venting the fire felt good, as if it was steam rather than flames he was letting off. Eventually, he stopped completely, sliding down against the door back into the building. In his exhaustion, some realization settled into Roy as his reaction settled over him. He was acting jealous. “Fucking shit,” he scowled, squinting his eyes shut and covering them with his hands, “I am jealous.”

 

But why would he be jealous of someone else flirting with Riza Hawkeye, his First Lieutenant?

 

That was one question Roy didn't want to know the answer of as he started to pick himself up. He couldn't let this get to him now, maybe after today, when he didn't have to win a bet against her. Groaning, he picked up the books and went back down the stairs. He could stick to the plan, talk to her, and maybe smooth everything over, then worry about why he was jealous later. This was all given that the plan didn't blow up his in his face either. Walking across the lobby, Roy spotted Maes waving at him, but he didn't stop except to throw him a glare. Later, much later, he might forgive the Lieutenant Colonel for shoving this piece of advice he was taking into his hands, but not now.

 

The sun was bright as Roy walked out into the midday sun of late summer. The steps were covered in a sea of blue uniforms, some going up and down, in and out of the building, but most of them were lounging on the stonework with food containers in all shapes and sizes everywhere. The end of the stifling heat always seemed to inspire most of the military to eat outdoors this time of year. With no where else besides the cafeteria with the standard issue food, the steps ended up being the place to eat. Spotting the Lieutenant wasn't hard as her legs were the only bare ones in the crowd. The many glances towards her from the other officers were also a dead giveaway. She sat perched on the base of one the stone statues flanking the steps, one foot tucked demurely behind the other with her high heeled shoes off and fallen on the ground. He started to walk towards her, ducking around the people busy eating or talking.

 

She didn't notice him at all, idly munching on a cold turkey sandwich between handfuls of miniature pretzels packaged in small tins she used to carry her food. Riza never did like the cafeteria food except for drinks, probably because she could make her own lunch better than that if she had the time. It also felt good to be outside when the weather was nice, and not cramped up in their offices. Her stocking feet kicked at the stone behind her heels, wincing as one of the bruises on her sole flared in pain. It also felt good to get out of those damned shoes. “I'm never wearing heels to work again, along with this skirt,” Riza muttered to herself, unaware of the shadow falling across her.

 

“I wouldn't be too sure of that, Lieutenant,” said a voice from over her shoulder as she jumped, nearly losing her seat on the steps.

 

“Sir! Ummmm . . . what are you doing here?” she asked, startled and nervous while swallowing hard on the lump of sandwich in her throat. Roy grinned at her reaction, part of him enjoying the shade of red on her face. Before he realized what he was doing, he crouched down next to her, eyeing the small pile of food and metal containers between them to avoid looking at her, “I was using my break to head over to the Second Branch Library to drop off some books.”

 

“Ummm, did you want me to do that for you, sir?” Riza asked as she stared at him, confused as he seemed more interested in her lunch, “Or were you just hungry?”

 

Roy looked up to see a small smirk on her face, making him grin in return even if he suddenly felt foolish, “No, it's alright, I don't feel too hungry right now, just needed a walk outside for a little.”

 

The smirk turned into a smile on her lips as he couldn't help looking into her brown eyes. He always did like the color of them, like milk chocolate with flecks of gold. Suddenly, he found himself smiling too much. Riza looked away, and he remembered again why he was there all along, “If you're done eating, there's a set new books that Scieszka asked me to pick up and bring to her in the First Branch, I . . . would appreciate the help.”

 

Roy stood back up, trying not to curse himself for making it a request and not an order. He had to be going soft, that was it. And yet, Riza didn't seem to notice as she nodded, starting to pack up what little was left of her lunch, “Of course, sir, just give me a moment.”

 

Quickly, the metal tins and the bag they came in were tucked into the small black bag that she usually carried to and from the office. She dropped off the statue's base and slipped on her shoes, bending over to adjust them while precariously balanced steadily on one heel as Roy watched with an amused grin. He always did like watching women move like that to fix their shoes, the odd balancing act so seemingly graceful and ungainly at the same time. It had to be a miracle of feminine creation that they moved unconsciously like that. Even in action, Roy remembered Hawkeye being just as graceful with her guns, even if it was more visceral grace than lyrical. He caught himself on that last thought, blinking rapidly to clear the tangent from his head. Now was not the time to lose his focus as he rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his hand. Riza glanced back, a little confused when he didn't move now that she was ready, “Sir?”

 

“Right, Second Branch Library,” he muttered, hurrying down the steps while she filed in behind him. She always did manage to keep the perfect distance of two paces away from him whenever they walked together, something that never struck him as odd or bothering before. But as they crossed the courtyard in front of Headquarters and made their way onto the sidewalks of Central, the formalness was getting to him. And she was being silent as well. “Lieutenant,” he started to say before deciding to drop decorum all together, “Riza, we're out of the office now, you don't have to walk that far away from me, I don't bite and am not contagious.”

 

“Sorry, sir,” she said as he heard her heels pick up the pace a little. Roy glanced over to see her standing next to his shoulder, her coat flapping open behind her in the breeze as the automobiles passed them. It was hard not to notice the differences in her uniform this close, once again reminded of why he invited her along in the first place. Why did the bet keep slipping from his mind now after it plagued him all night and all morning? The dark haired man looked away before he could let his eyes linger on her too long, admitting to something else that was getting to him, “You also don't have to call me sir for now, I have a name too.”

 

“Right . . . Roy,” Riza said, standing a little taller beside him, probably thanks to the heels, “If I may ask . . . and not to seem ungrateful, but is there a reason you're interrupting my lunch with this task? I was under the impression you didn't like my company today.”

 

“What ever gave you that idea? Just because there's a wager going on between us doesn't mean we can't speak,” he said with his usually smiling smirk, grateful for the opening, “And if you're still famished, I know a café not far from here you might like.”

 

“Um, no thank you, I was finishing when you showed up, but that doesn't answer my question, given that the fulfillment of the wager dictates a discussion between us, it would have been in your advantage to, well, avoid me for the rest of the day,” Riza said with a smirk of her own, “Not that such a thing is entirely possible, you've never been able to avoid me for long.”

 

She had a point there. When she had fresh sheets of forms ready to be signed, Riza Hawkeye was entire unavoidable. Clearing his throat to suppress the chuckle, Roy said, “Even in battles there is a necessity to parley with the enemy on occasion, so, perhaps, we can come to a conclusion of this whole fiasco before it interrupts the entire chain of command.”

 

“A conclusion? Does that mean you'll freely give up the miniskirt policy if you become Fuehrer?” she asked. It was worth shot. He was acting weird as it was, and the signs of chinks in his armor were clear this morning in his stares. It was so typical of him to go soft over women and clothing, a fact she'd been banking on when she made the bet. But, maybe she was wrong. His grin noticeably lessened, “Sorry to disappoint you, but, I haven't been entirely convinced yet that it's in the interest of the department to not review dress codes if and when I take office.”

 

His answer brought a snort of laughter from Riza, “If and when are big maybes, Colonel, becoming Fuehrer is a big ambition as well as a great responsibility, one most of Central already knows you wish to achieve, along with your reputation, maybe that's why you haven't gain any promotions recently.”

 

“Last I checked, I wasn't due to be eligible for the review board for a few more months,” Roy said, trying not to scowl. He didn't like the direction this was going at all. She didn't need to subtly remind him why he was doing all this in the first place, and how he was failing at it little by little. And what did she mean by his reputation anyway? Her smile brightened a moment as he felt something clench in his chest, suddenly nervous at the look on her face, “You were eligible as of two months ago.”

 

“Doesn't mean anything.”

 

“Well, it's not like your antics are helping any to advance your career.”

 

“All the more reason we should just cancel this bet,” Roy blurted out, finally, even if it was said far too quickly. He heard Riza's heels stop clicking on the stone sidewalk, which made him stop as well, turning towards her. When the shock melted away, there was defiance in her brown eyes, a fire he didn't see too often in her outside of combat. Just that look made his reasons died in his throat before he could even speak them. Apparently, it mattered more to her than he thought, but why? It was just some stupid bet over a hypothetical question, wasn't it? Maybe he could still convince her though. His words died again as the fire in her eyes turned into mischief, a smug grin spreading over her face, “What's the matter? Worried I might win?”

 

Roy's dark eyes hardened, definitely not pleased with the way the conversation was going, “You haven't been able to change my mind yet.”

 

“The day isn't over yet,” Riza said as she started to walk past him, holding her head a little higher in the air. There was something about the way she moved that calmed his anger, his eyes following her before his feet caught up. As the crossed the street, he noticed another man that passed them. From the turning of the guy's head, the Colonel could tell that he was looking at more than Hawkeye's face. Something clenched in his heart again, a small flare of jealousy that he quickly smothered before it drove him irate like before. Jealousy. It was almost a foreign word to him. He'd never been jealous over a woman before, least of all the attention she garnered from other men. And as she smiled back at the stranger, turning to follow him with her eyes, Roy realized he'd never been jealous of another man either. For some odd reason, he wished Riza had smiled at him like that, her eyes lighting up with thinly veiled interest. Now why would he want her to do that? Another mystery to another thought he didn't want to explore, least of all today.

 

Walking backwards in front of the Colonel, the Lieutenant caught Mustang's glare at her. There was something in his eyes that made her smile falter into curious surprise, a hollowness in the dark depths tinged with fire. Why in the world would he be looking at her like that? Only it wasn't as if he was looking at her, but through her, too caught up in his head to realize he'd been staring. It made her move closer in front of him, carefully watching her steps while coyly tucking her hands behind her back. He didn't even notice, still staring at where she was. “Is something wrong, sir?” She asked, her curiosity invading her voice.

 

As soon as Roy's eyes focused, he noticed where she had moved and flinched, embarrassment written all over the sight blush in his cheeks. It made her grin. He was showing the cracks in his armor again, until he smirked back at her. “Nothing, Lieutenant,” he said as the smirk widened into a grin, “But do keep the fraternization to a minimum until we're off-duty.”

 

“I wasn't fraternizing, I was smiling, I doubt it's against the rules to be polite,” she said with her own matching grin, “Besides, it isn't against the rules to fraternize either with the general public, just with the non-commissioned officers.”

 

Roy blinked, “Really? How do you know?”

 

“It was in the handbook from basic officer training, I'm surprised you didn't memorize it,” Riza explained as she turned around again, dropping back to walk by his side. Walking next to him, she had no idea of the can of worms she had just unleashed, probably because he was staring ahead and not at her as his thoughts flew behind his eyes. How could he miss that little bit of information? No wonder there were some teams of state alchemists in the field that were married. He was sure he knew a few couples in headquarters as well even if they kept it under wraps. It was making sense now. So . . . did that mean suddenly all the women in Headquarters were up for grabs? No wonder Havoc flirted so much with the female officers but avoided Scieszka as she was non-commissioned and still a Private. No wonder Armstrong tried to ask Riza to lunch too. Another pang of jealous flared in his heart at that thought, and he knew he was surely losing it. Roy had to know, if only for the sake of his sanity, “If that's so, then why didn't you take up Major Armstrong's invitation to lunch? It would have gotten you out of library book detail.”

 

Riza laughed, grinning as she glanced over her shoulder at him before laughing harder. Something in what he said was obviously hilarious to her, a part he didn't get, and it confused the hell out of him, “What?”

 

“Roy, really, are we talking about the same man here? What would make you think I'd accept a lunch invitation from Armstrong of all people? He's so . . .” Riza said once her fit of laughter was over before stopping, her face scrunched up into a look of distaste.

 

“Muscular?” Roy offered, suppressing a smirk, “Secure in his manhood.”

 

“Not my choice in men, and embarrassing, even if he is better at his job sometimes than you,” Riza grinned at him as she answered, her eyes narrowing dangerous as she turned his questioning around, “Really though, why should it be any concern of yours on whom I have lunch with?”

 

“It isn't,” he lied through his teeth, thankfully keeping the jealousy nipping at him out of the expression on his face, “I was merely curious after Breda brought it up.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

“Nothing you don't already know.”

 

“What's that suppose to mean? That's not an answer at all,” Riza asked, glaring as he was obviously avoiding the question, “What am I gonna do? Shoot him for spreading office gossip?”

 

Roy snorted in laughter, “I wouldn't put it past you, you always did have a knack for going for your guns first when it came to office politics.”

 

“And you always had a knack for starting fires instead of trying diplomatic solutions,” She retorted, pointedly ignoring looking at him while staring in the opposite direction, “I've gotten very good at putting them out for you.”

 

“Then how about instead of arguing, and prolonging this fight, we come to one of your diplomatic solutions of the matter between us, eh?” Roy offered, thankfully bringing back up want he wanted to talk about before they digressed any longer. It wasn't like her to wander off subjects this long, always a dogged determination to get her point across, which made the whole of the discussion that much more unsettling to him. For once, Roy felt like he was nagging her, and not vice versa. Riza looked at him, the fire back in her eyes, before staring ahead again, “No, I won't let you win so easily, as you said, the matter is between us, and it will not be me to resolve it till I've had the chance to change your mind, I mean really, you've been almost beside yourself today, Roy, and so has every other man that's crossed my path since this morning, could you imagine that effect multiplied by a third and happening everyday?”

 

“Yes, once I get used to it, it might even be pleasant to see on a daily basis,” he said, wondering himself if that was the truth, a half-truth, or a bald-faced lie. It felt like a lie on his lips. He'd never get used to seeing her like this. And part of him didn't want to share the sight of her stocking covered legs either. Those little pangs of jealousy were going to be the death of him till he squashed it, he just knew it. Riza frowned, letting her fists clench as her cool demeanor cracked a little. “Is ogling other women all you think about? You really can be a bastard sometimes, you know that?” she said more as fact than a question, the hurt intruding in her voice.

 

Roy winced and cursed himself as she picked up her pace to move away from him. Not thinking, he grabbed the blonde's shoulder to stop her before she was out of reach. Riza whirled on him, ready for a public argument, at least until her shoe heel slipped over a crack in the pavement. Her balance wasn't helped when someone on the busy sidewalk shoved her forward on their way past while she was turned. Off-balance, she leaned towards the Colonel with a startled cry, quickly falling over. He cursed out loud and dropped the books to grab her before she fell. The Lieutenant staggered and landed against his chest, both of them pressed together as his arms clasped her close to him. For a long moment, all Riza could think about was how dark his eyes really were as she looked up into them, solid glossy blackness like obsidian. The only thing she could see in his eyes was her own startled expression reflected back at her in their glassy surface. That was, before the reflection was broken as he closed his eyes.

 

Roy's mouth dropped open, his mouth dry when he tried to talk. There was something about holding Hawkeye in his arms that seemed as frightening as it was wondrous. Maybe, it was something about the way she looked into his eyes that made him forget about everything but her. Slowly, all those thoughts about her he'd been pushing aside since Breda's misplaced gossip came rushing back. Jealousy, possession, lust, and something else. That unknown something else was very frightening the more it lingered in his head. Roy's eyes slid closed as he tried to get a grip on his emotions before they shattered his long held mask completely. His hands moved from clasping her to him to grip her shoulders instead, slowly pushing her away as she found her footing. His eyes opened again as she finally spoke, “Thank you.”

 

“Don't mention it,” he said, almost reluctantly as he could see a slight blush over her cheeks. It must have been the sun as the day suddenly felt warmer to him too. Fucking shit, he was losing it. Roy bent over to grab the books scattered on the pavement before they got trampled on. Riza crouched down next to him as well, silently grabbing a few as well. “I take it back,” she said softly after a few long moments filled of quiet between them.

 

“Take what back?” he asked, sounding completely dumb to her probably.

 

“You have your moments when you're not a complete bastard,” she admitted as he stared at her, almost numb with shock, “No matter what Edward Elric thinks of you.”

 

“Huh, you've been listening to that brat too much, sometimes I think I coddle him too much,” Roy admitted, letting the moment pass as if he never held her, “But, then again, he has his times when he's not quite a kid or a brat.”

 

“Much like you, sir,” she beamed at him, and he could almost hear her teasing laughter hidden behind her brown eyes rather than in her voice. The dark-haired man snorted in his own bout of self-aware laughter. Maes was right about her, she was one heck of distraction, even if he was beginning to like being distracted. This talk was going so far beyond what he had thought to achieve, past the bet, past even their normal office-bound niceties. Maybe he should have admitted defeat, while he was still sane, but his pride still wouldn't let him surrender, not yet. He never should have let her goad him into this bet in the first place. “You know, I don't understand why you won't just let this go?” he grumbled as he picked up the last book, standing back up, “You of all people should know how stubborn I can be.”

 

Riza's good mood had evaporated as soon as the words were out of his mouth and hanging in the air. She stood up, adjusting her skirt and pushing away the dirt while holding the armful of books. “I thought that would be obvious, sir, given your talents with women,” she retorted, not bothering to hide the look of loathing on her face, “Do you even remember what you said?”

 

“Vaguely?” Roy asked, suddenly nervous. What had he said again that kicked off this powder keg? Shit, something about not noticing her in a skirt or not? Suddenly, her fingers were itching for a gun, and as he was slowly remembering, he was itching to duck for cover. Maybe that wasn't the brightest thing to say about a woman who was obviously prideful about her appearance. “I'm sorry?” he offered, noticing the slight twitch in her arms as she walked.

 

“You're sorry? Now of all times? It took you this long to figure out exactly what you, said didn't it?” Riza asked, her voice dripping with disdain as her eyes rolled, “You know, even if I don't win this bet, if it teaches you at least a little about tact around women you're not actively seducing, I think I'd die happy.”

 

“You know, I'm not that much of a screw up, I've gotten this far in my career even if there's still a long way to go, which is quite an accomplishment given everything that's happened,” he grumbled, breaking off for a long moment as she didn't answer him before continuing, “So I slipped up, it was a small joke after all . . .”

 

“It was a joke at my expense in front of the whole office, you couldn't have painted me as more invisible short of dipping me in camouflage,” she said, snarky in her exaggeration, “I may be tolerant of every other little annoying thing you do, but I draw the line at being the butt of your cracks on the opposite sex.”

 

“So . . . this is what it's all about then?” Roy asked as his voice dropped dangerously low, “You think you're invisible, that I don't notice you?”

 

She blinked, but made no otherwise noticeable reaction to his question. So what if he guessed right? He'd shaken her pride with his unwitting insult, and her pride wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of an answer, at least, not a truthful answer anyway. “No,” she answered, the lie heavy on her tongue, “I just am not letting you get away with your antics this time, someone has to stand up to it before they get the better of you.”

 

This time, it was Roy who blinked. Riza had protected him in the past, but he never thought she carried it to the extent of protecting him from himself before. Her devotion seemed to run deeper than her realized, more than he deserved probably. He didn't feel worthy of such loyalty at all. If he was a better person, maybe it wouldn't feel so bad. Then again, maybe her opinion would change if she knew what he had done, or maybe not. Either way, there was only one thing he could say for everything she'd done for him, or would do in the future. “Thank you,” he said softly, not looking at her as the words spilled from his mouth, “Even if I may not act like I appreciate it, or need it all the time, thank you . . . just in case I forget to mention it.”

 

He grinned as a confused look spread across her face. Eventually her confusion dissolved with a smile as they turned the corner, rapidly coming up towards the library. “You're welcome,” Riza said as she threw him a cat-like grin, her brown eyes half-lidded, “But you're not off the hook yet, and the day's long from being over.”

 

“It that a threat or a promise?” he asked as he grinned as well. There was something about her eyes that made his heart beat a little easier, letting up on the tight grip with which he'd held it in check. That was until she actually giggled, walking past him as her eyes rolled upwards. Suddenly, he felt nervous and elated at the same time to hear her laugh so easily as she glanced back at him from over her shoulder, “That, Roy, is up to you to decide.”

 

**********

 

Why did she tell him that? If he didn't know better, he would have thought Riza was teasing him. For all he knew, she was teasing him as the whole conversation plagued him now that they had run out of things to say, her words rattle around his head. They had chatted idly on the way back, the whole war almost forgotten, but now it had fallen into an uneasy silence. After dropping off the books at the Second Branch library, they picked up the second load, and had walked them over to Scieszka's small, and overcrowded, desk in the First Branch only to find it deserted. They decided to wait till she came back from lunch, but it also left them alone together for longer than he wanted. Somewhere between all the walking, and the waiting, his original plans to convince Riza to drop the bet got left in the dust. After arguing with her, then catching her before she fell, holding her in his arms, and then back to arguing before realizing just how little he appreciated her, winning a lousy bet was the least of Roy Mustang's problems.

 

Something was wrong, and he could feel it the more her words went through his head. Well, maybe not wrong, just different. It was a difference he didn't like as it kept bringing up that frightening unknown feeling hanging over his head. It wouldn't have been so bad if he could have at least heard more of her voice and words to distract him from it. Apparently, talking more was not what she wanted as she stared off into other parts of the side room off of the main library hall. Riza leaned casually against one side of the desk that was nearest to Scieszka's, the books resting on her hip as her arm kept them from slipping down. Roy had been staring at her legs instead of the floor as he kept his head down, watching her like a hawk the whole time they waited. The more he looked, the more he had to admit that she held true to her threat. While she wasn't tall, her legs were long in proportion and the heels only exaggerated it. For the briefest of moments, Roy idly wondered what her legs would feel like if he touched them before he snapped himself out of it. That thought alone crossed too many boundaries between them, and he knew it. And yet, as his eyes slowly drifted up over the rest of her figure, he started to wonder if some boundaries were meant to be crossed. “You know, you do look nice today, Riza,” he muttered before he could stop himself, wincing as soon as he said it.

 

Her head snapped towards him, brown eyes blinking till she caught where his glance was. A grin spread over her lips as she spoke, a teasing lilt to her voice, “Why thank you, Roy, but make sure you look all you want now, tonight I plan to burn this skirt so I'll never have to wear it again,” she winched and kicked off one of her heels, stretching her toes, “Along with these heels, if you put in policy regarding footwear, you're dead.”

 

“I'll keep that in mind . . . but is does look nice on you, didn't I say that already? I meant it,” Roy said as he looked away, scratching the back of his head to keep from twitching in embarrassment. That was about as smooth as taking sandpaper to silk. He was losing his touch. Why was he complimenting her anyway? Riza noticed that as well, still grinning as she slipped her shoe back on. All the cracks in the carefully built armor he kept around his life were showing, making her wonder just how much of him around her was real or a lie. The compliment felt like the truth as he was obviously embarrassed to say it. If it was one she rarely saw Roy as, it was embarrassed complimenting a woman. Somehow, his little admission was even more endearing than Al's. “Thank you, sir,” she said as he slowly turned his head back towards her, “I already knew you meant it since you didn't call me gorgeous or anything, just nice.”

 

Roy matched her grin, suddenly feeling better about the now seemingly small confession, “For me to call you gorgeous would do you an injustice, Hawkeye, you don't need my misguided opinions on feminine beauty to tell you when a mirror will suffice.”

 

To see his Lieutenant's mouth drop open in shock was worth the price of making a lousy bet. Another boundary was crossed as he knew he was flirting, only this time he kind of meant it. She blinked at him, unsure how to take the flattery. It was certainly honest, to an extent. He did have misguided opinions on women, just not on beauty. Slowly, an insidious feeling twisted in her mind over his words, blinking more as she realized that flattery was flirting as well as sincere. This was about the first time he hit on her and meant it. That thought alone brought down an avalanche of realization, the dawning of an understanding. He . . . liked her, in the more than merely platonic partners and just friends sense.

 

That was crazy talk, right? Roy couldn't like her that way, could he? It seemed a completely foreign idea till she started to put the pieces of their conversation together along with the morning. Of course he was lecherous enough to stare at her, that was a given, but there was when he teased her about flirting with that one stranger, then asking why she didn't eat lunch with Armstrong, and now this. His sudden interest in her social life, and focus on her appearance could only mean one thing. He really did like her and was jealous. Suddenly it all made sense as he grinned at her, something shining in the darkness of his eyes. She looked away, fighting down a growing blush as she still rebelled again the notion that he was taken with her. First of all she wasn't his type. She was too smart for him that was certain. She was also too aggressive, a trait he probably didn't like as all the women he dated were meek things more in awe of him than anything else. That was the second thing, she knew him too well. Even if he did try to charm her, it wouldn't work . . . unless he meant it. That was the part that undid the Lieutenant's logical rational. If he really, really, was interested in her, and meant every word of it too, he would be very hard to resist. For all she knew, he was acting again, like he did with those other women. But did he mean it with her? She had to know.

 

At least it was a good line anyway. Riza's grin turned into a small, slightly hopeful smile, before she sobered up completely, “I suppose I should thank you then, again, sir, but there probably isn't a need to.”

 

“You're welcome . . . I think,” Roy said as it was now his turn to be confused, “Why do you think that?”

 

“Because this isn't the first time you've complimented me on my appearance along with other things, you just never meant them before,” she said pointedly looked away, as if she was ignoring him. Roy looked at her scandalized, her implications worse since she was partially correct. While he hadn't meant it all the other times he had jokingly flirted with her, in retrospect, he . . . did mean them too. He was lying then, but now it was the truth, was it still lying? And how the hell could she tell if he meant them or not? Looking rather nervous, Roy glanced away again, fumbling again for an answer till it struck him. A smile slowly crept onto his face, the nervous look disappearing, “Well, um, if I didn't mean them before, may be it was because I didn't think you'd accept my compliments.”

 

“Why would you think that?” Riza asked as she blinked before suddenly realizing it was a trap as the Colonel grinned.

 

“Because I didn't think you would be interested in me before.”

 

Her cheeks went scarlet as her mouth dropped open again. Roy grinned, her reaction enough to tell him his guess was true. But, as soon as she saw his grin, Riza's brown eyes hardened in anger, “Don't be absurd, I have no interest in you what so ever.”

 

To emphasize her point, she slammed the books in her arms on the desk she had been leaning against. It also covered her wince as she knew she was lying, again. “Then why did you blush?” he asked so innocently that it only goaded her anger more.

 

“Because instead of being flattered by you arrogant assumption, I'm rather insulted by it,” Riza said, dripping her voice in held back anger to keep it from wavering. Damn, she was lying again. In reality, she was shocked as hell since she didn't even know she was interested in him. She was supposed to questioning him anyway, not fending him off. This called for retaliation as she looked him in the eyes, moving a little closer towards the Colonel. “Maybe it's you who'd interested in me, I mean you did compliment me, and you haven't been able to keep your greedy eyes off of my legs, I'm rather offended,” she countered, grinning on the last statement.

 

This time it was Roy's turn to blush, if only slightly, “Well, how could anyone not notice you while you're parading around in that short skirt and killing your feet in those heels?”

 

“Isn't that the whole point of our bet?”

 

“Yes, but maybe I do like the idea of you wearing that stuff for me,” Roy said before he realized what he said. Shit, he meant `because of me', it just didn't come out of his mouth like that. Riza gasped, and he knew it was too late to take it back. And yet, instead of getting offended, like he figured, or going for her guns, like he feared, a smirk slowly trudged up her lips once the shock wore off. “I knew it . . .” she muttered before grinning, “I was right.”

 

“Don't be absurd,” he said, suddenly wishing that wasn't what he said at all, “I, um, we only work together, I would never do anything to-.”

 

“Oh really?” Riza asked as she moved closer, standing easily in reach of his arms, “Then why did you say that?”

 

Something snapped at Mustang in that instant, something he wished he could have squashed before the argument reached this point. It was hurting him ever since she got assigned right into his life, even if it was small, but now, today of all days, it turned his head even stronger. There was a dark, fiery look in Roy's eyes, and momentarily, the blonde's determination shook. Before she could take a step back, his hand latching onto her arm and pulled her closer till she was pressed against him. Face to face with one another and touching in too many places to be just friendly, Riza Hawkeye was stunned to speechlessness. Her lips parted, sucking in a deep breath as Roy didn't move either. Both of them had been riveted to the spot, until his head lowered slightly towards hers as if she was drawing him in. “Maybe I just can't help myself anymore,” he said finally, his voice as dark and sultry as his eyes.

 

“Colonel?” asked a quiet voice across the room, coming from the doorway.

 

Roy quickly let the Lieutenant go as she stepped back just as fast. Scieszka looked at them both from the door, her eyes as big as her glasses. Unsure if she should be angry or thankful to the Private, Riza kept emotion from her face as she casually tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, “Ah, must have been a good lunch to be gone so long.”

 

A delighted grin spread over the brown-haired young woman's face, “It's ok, I can come back later yet.”

 

Suddenly, both of the Colonel and the Lieutenant had a good reason to blush.

 

**********

 

This was torture. She was torturing him for coming onto her. There was no other explanation for it. After his confession, and the near kiss in Scieszka's office, Riza went back to keeping two steps behind him. She also seemed to forget his name and remembered his rank over her. He'd never been more frustrated at her called him `sir' than he was on that walk back to Headquarters. The elevator ride was also just as bad, even if it was more dependent on his lousy luck than on her avoiding him. After the lift emptied onto the second floor, he just about attacked, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around before she knew what was happening. There it was again, that spark as he lowered his head towards her, about to kiss her. Then the bell rung and the doors opened onto the third floor. Riza had slipped out of his grasp and into the hallway. The two officers waiting entered the elevator, blocking his way out as the doors slid closed again. When he came back into the office, she was already at her desk, going over papers, as the others looked up to watch them. He didn't even get to ask her why she had run, but he assumed to what it was. Of all the women for him to come on too strong to, it had to be Riza Hawkeye.

 

She was torturing him, ever so slowly, just by sitting at her desk.

 

Whether she realized it on not as she lazily wrote on the papers, her skirt left enough to his lingering imagination that it wandered into places that he didn't like. Her chair was turned toward his door with her coat thrown over the back, like usual in the afternoon when he wasn't doing anything but paperwork. It was so she could keep her eyes on him, to know he was actually working and not napping. Like he could concentrate on work or sleep right now anyway. Every time he looked up at her crossed, stocking-covered legs and took mere glances at the black lace lingerie underneath, he felt his blood pulse strongly. In a blessing of luck or one of its cruel tricks, her legs parted enough that he could dimly make out even more black lace. So that was what she wore under there. It took all his willpower to look away and look busy when she looked towards him. This was no longer a hell of a distraction from her, it was hell.

 

The longer the afternoon dragged on, the more he realized that he was not just jealous and not just lusting after her. It was both, and something more, something that still frightened him to think about. If it was just one or the other, he could have handled it, but not both. And the something else only made him more crazed to sate what he was feeling. And that jolt when he came close to kissing her only confirmed it, not once, but twice. He wanted her, to hold her again, to kiss her, to feel her, to know her, to touch those legs, to keep her by his side whenever he could, and the part that scared him the most, he didn't think he could ever stop wanting her once he was allowed that far. What the hell was coming over him? Once he did that . . . she'd want the same in return, and more, but could he give that much?

 

All women wanted that, love, which was probably why he went through so many. Once they realized he would never really love them in return, or that he didn't want them any more, or that they didn't want him, they were gone. It didn't matter to Roy. He didn't care if they stayed or went. But with Riza, he would probably always care. Damn, he was losing it. Damn her, damn the bet, damn the feeling clenching in his heart, and damn those fucking sparks! And damn himself for touching her. The blonde looked up again, catching his eyes as he looked at her, his thoughts betrayed in them. She'd probably seen right through him as her gaze softened. He looked down quickly before his traitorous stare caused more problems, quickly signing the form in front of him without reading it. He then noticed it was the form to give Havoc three days leave for some stupid reason if he remembered right. To meet some woman visiting Jean, he thought it was. Damn, he didn't want to sign that till the last minute, just to torture him a little.

 

Roy groaned then heard a slight giggle from out in the office. He looked up to see that Riza at least was amused by his pain, her lips quirked in a small smile to hide a knowing grin. Sighing, he moved the paper to the far side of his desk, not wanting to see it anymore. The Colonel was half standing up and bending over to make sure it was far, far away when he heard her heels on the floor, rapidly entering his office as he froze and looked up. She closed the door behind her and Roy sat back down, almost falling into the chair as it rolled back. Riza looked at him curiously, “I'm not interrupting anything, sir, am I?”

 

“No . . .” he said, wanting to say more till his mouth ran dry. She didn't move except to take one step towards the right side of his desk. “I just wanted to pick up some of the finished papers so I can have them filed before the end of the day,” Riza explained before taking another step closer.

 

“That's fine,” he said, sinking back in his chair. There went hoping she came in here for something else unprofessional in nature. He kept the disappointment off of his face except that his eyes fell a little. Her eyes drifted from Mustang to his desk as she gave an irritated sigh. “So typical,” she muttered before walking to his side, “You always were so unorganized with your papers, I shouldn't have to be your maid too.”

 

Roy grinned as she started to clean up his desk, “But I don't mind at all.”

 

Her head whipped around to glare at him as she bent over slightly to reach for a piece of paper, a smirk on her lips, “Of course you wouldn't, why didn't I think of that?”

 

He gave a small chuckle as her brown eyes rolled upwards. After that, she ignored his presence completely as she shuffled the signed papers scattered all over into a single pile. She probably would have been out of his hair for the rest of the day after that, the arguments and temptation forgotten and the bet lost, if she would have just chosen a different pair of cursed shoes. And all to grab the last signed paper, the one he had strategically placed as far away as possible. In move that spoke volumes in lack of forethought, Riza bent over the desk to reach it, balancing on one leg as the other stretched back. Her heel slipped out from under her when she bent too far, falling with a startled shout. Before she could get far, she felt a hand on the back of her hip and another pull at her waist. The papers in her hands went flying as her downward movement stopped in a sudden jarring, but unusually soft, landing. She felt a warm breath tingle her ear, “Those shoes really are dangerous.”

 

Her pale skin went red as she realized that she was sitting in Roy's lap, his arms around her waist and legs. So that was why she felt something on her thigh. “Damnit,” she cursed, trying not to shudder or stammer, “All the more reason not to change the dress code.”

 

“Riza . . .” he said almost threateningly but softly, his hand gripping her leg through the skirt more firmly, “Let's not start that again.”

 

She shifted in his grasp, trying to escape it while she could, “Um, sir, I'm fine now, you can let go.”

 

“I do have a name,” he said softly into her ear, making it burn with flushed heat, “You could try saying it once in a while.”

 

“Roy . . . Colonel,” she said, pouring every amount of resistance she could into her voice, “Let go.”

 

Riza felt his hand on her leg slide down a moment, past the blue fabric to touch her stocking-covered skin. She tried not to gasp, but couldn't help drawing in a sharp breath at his fingers. And then, his hands were gone, lifting away from her body. He had let her go. She slid off his lap and onto her feet again before he changed his mind or before she changed her mind too.

 

Just about to turn away from him to pick up the fallen papers, she suddenly stopped, nearly falling again as he touched her leg. It was just a finger on the inside of her knee, but it was enough to stop her in her track. She stood there frozen as his finger drew a line up higher on her stocking while his thumb joined in to trace the back seam. Why was she just standing there? She should have been fighting him off, right? If this was any other day, Riza probably would have a gun pressed to his head by now. Yet, somewhere between the walk to the library, her realization that he wanted her, those near kisses, and now this, her resistance to the idea of Roy Mustang had crumpled, and now shattered completely. Maybe she should have let him kiss her, and then she would have known if the shock of just his hands were lust, or something more. It didn't matter now as his hand reached under her skirt and glided past the top of the thin hose to touch skin. A sharp moan squelched in her dry throat, she bent over slightly and braced herself on the desk, helpless to resist. Traitorously, she unconsciously took a half step away, her legs opening to the intruding touch.

 

She heard the chair turn behind her and felt a tug on her skirt. He must have taken her lack of fighting or pulling away as a sign of want, something she wasn't about to deny either. God help her, she wanted him to touch her as his fingers felt so close now, the anticipation making the burn more intense. Cool air rushed over Riza's skin as he lifted the short garment over her ass, making her jump in the suddenness. The chair squeaked in protest, and she knew he was standing over her now. A shiver ran down her spin as Roy leaned against her, pressing a kiss just above the collar of her black turtleneck, soft, just like she always imagined he kissed other women. He groaned into her ear as she felt his fingers run up the back of her black lace garters, stopping when he reached the matching panties. Tracing the material down the curve of her rear made the Lieutenant bend over till she was sprawled across the desk, moving in his grasp eagerly the closer he came to touching where she wanted it. When he finally did, Riza Hawkeye was lost, shuddering as he pressed the fabric into her folds. She moaned.

 

As soon as the sound was out of her mouth, everything happened at once. Ever since the first touch, Roy desperately clung to going slow out of fear of her reaction. When she let him touch her, liked it, and didn't shoot him, holding back anymore seemed idiotic. Pulling his hands away, he swept her knees and feet out from under her, flipping her prone body over and hauling her towards the center of the desk. Papers, pens, and other items clattered to the floor, but he didn't care. As soon as she was directly in front of him, Mustang shoved his hand down the front of her underwear, feeling her heat and wet flesh quivering as she moaned again before biting down on her lips. His fingers curled, parting the delicate skin as she tried to grind herself against him. She gasped when they slid into her, brown eyes wide then closing. Brushing his thumb over her clit, Riza gave a sharp cry before it died on her lips.

 

Just the sound of her voice made him want to silence her mouth with his as he moved between her legs, wrenching them apart. The heat under all these clothes was unbearable as her thighs tried to close around his hips. Roy felt her hands grab his jacket collar, pulling him down on top of her as he tried to resist, intent on the movement of his hand over her center instead. Apparently she had other ideas. Using him as leverage, she pulled herself up till their lips met, lightly. He could feel the blonde teasing him as she backed off just when he got a taste of her. All it did was drive him with need to consume her. All those little sparks added up to undoing his control. His hand became relentless in finding her secrets, to make her as wild as he felt. He'd never let a woman get to him this bad before, his other arm shaking with desire as he braced himself against the desk, letting her tug on his clothes incessantly. Riza's body arched as she moaned again as his fingers furrowed deeper, a sound that needed to be silenced before the whole damned office knew. Before the moan could turn into a scream, he kissed her.

 

Roy Mustang had lost.

 

That was a good description for finally kissing Hawkeye like he wanted. If he died then and there in her arms, it would make a fitting epitaph. Roy had lost, felt lost, and was just plain lost in her lips, teeth, and burning mouth as it opened to him. She was allowing his tongue to ravage her as much as his hands were, and it was as gratifying as just holding her. Even the last vestiges of coherent thoughts were lost. It was replaced with a consuming need to be even closer to her, driven by those damned sparks again. She must have felt it too. She probably wouldn't have let him get this far if she hadn't. As Riza nibbled on his lips, sucking on them lightly, he knew just touching her wasn't enough.

 

His fingers abandoned their pursuit, pulling out so that he could wrap his arms over her curves. Her legs tightened over his waist, both of them dimly awake of the clunk of her shoes hitting the floor. Somehow, it didn't bother them as they were too intent on exploring each other's mouth. In midst of all the heat coursing through his veins, Mustang became aware of the painful clench in his heart. Each beat drummed through his ears, rising above all the wonderful sounds Riza made deep in her throat. He was also acutely aware of the exactly how tight his pants and boxers were when her hips pressed into him, groaning into her mouth.

 

She nearly tore his blue jacket open in her haste, and had half of his white collared-shirt and undershirt pulled out before he grabbed her wrists. The blonde fought against Roy as pushed her down and pinned her arms, still connected at their lips and pressed together at the hips. Clothes didn't seemed to matter as Riza writhed under him, tearing her lips away to give a whimpering cry before burying it in his neck. He felt the same way, desperate to alleviate the hardness he felt. What did he feel? All he could feel at the moment was the woman devoted to him grinding her hips into his, and it felt like heaven or hell. But what was she to him if they continued like this? His subordinate, his confidant, his companion, his friend, his lover? Did he love her?

 

Oh god, he did love her.

 

Reason snapped back into Roy's head over the rush of desire, making him spring off of Riza's body. The dark-haired man took one staggering step back and collapsed into his chair. She didn't move from where she laid on the desk, too stunned to move in the loss. That was . . . unexpected. Slowly, she recovered and sat up, biting her lips to keep from groaning at the unfulfilled ache between her legs. The Colonel was still in his chair, brooding with his elbows on his knees and his hands clench under his chin till they were bone-white. He didn't even look up at her, his dark eyes fixed on the floor. After the heat of his kisses, his touch, his body, the coldness in his look felt as if she'd been plunged in ice. Remembering it all only moments ago made the look all the more painful. Riza opened her mouth after working up her courage, but her jaw snapped shut as he raised his hand, “Don't . . .”

 

Her heart sunk a little at his words, just knowing whatever he said next were words she didn't want to hear. “I'm sorry, Riza, I shouldn't have touched you,” he said, his voice hollow even if there was a conflict on emotion across the rest of his features, “This was a mistake.”

 

Angry lit up in the pit of her stomach, not wanting to believe him, “This was a mistake? That's all you can say? But what-?”

 

Roy's eyes flashed up at her and she could read the emotion dominating them, stopper her voice. Fear. Her anger died slowly, replaced by sympathy for him and curiosity as to what could make the Colonel afraid. Still perched on his desk, she slowly reached out to touch his cheek. He let her slid her hand over his skin, the comfort seeping into him as the mask slipped away. Maybe she would understand him. Maybe she would feel the same. He wished that she did as he nuzzled her palm. He was so afraid of letting her know, of what she'd say. “What are you afraid of, Roy?” she asked so innocently that it shook him from his revelry.

 

He couldn't let her in this easily. He was too afraid of letting her see himself.

 

His hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand. When she reached for him with the other, the dark-haired man pushed her back till she was pinned to her own chest. The soft expressions were gone in her eyes, replaced with anger again as she struggled to break free. He seemed to snap when she pushed against him, the fire in his eyes rising as well as his fear. It was no use trying to hide it now. “I am afraid that I don't know myself anymore,” Roy admitted as his mask crumbled completely.

 

She fought harder till he had to stand up to push her back down on the desk so that she was pinned completely. They were both panting, and still fighting, if only weaker, till he growled between clenched teeth, “I'm afraid that I'm not the nice person everyone thinks I am.”

 

The dark voice with which he said those last words made Riza finally stop. He shut his eyes hard till his whole face scrunched together, pain shaking down his arms into hers, “I don't know which parts are truly me anymore, and which parts are the mask, I never wanted this, I never wanted to be someone else, someone everyone looked up to, I am not a hero, all I only ever wanted was to make a different, to pay for the things I've done, and I am no where even close to earning back that redemption, I don't deserve selfless devotion from anyone, especially from you, I don't deserve to touch you for what I've done, I won't let you try to change my mind, and I won't make the same mistake again, it's over, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry . . . but this was my mistake.”

 

Roy seemed to wind down, exhaling with a slight groan. His hands fell away as he collapsed back into the chair, leaving the blonde lying on the desk again. It took her a few moments to absorb the confession, playing it back in her head as she slowly sat up once more. He was back to brooding, this time his hands covered his face till all she could see was his mouth. Damn him if he thought she was this easily scared away. Who did he think she was? It went right to her pride that he'd think of her as someone that needed protection when it was always the opposite between them before. Riza slid off the desk, her skirt still up around her waist. She gripped the edge of the wooden surface tightly, using it to keep her rising anger out of her voice, “How can you say that to me? Do you think that little of me or that much to put me on a pedestal?”

 

Slowly he looked up as her voice stuck in her throat. The bitterness and anger kept rising as the realization started to sink in that he had truly mean it, that it was over, just when she was started to think that she could . . . that she could love him. Staring back at him, her brown eyes glazed over with icy fire, burrowing into him, “Do not mistake me for one of your easy girlfriends, sir, I don't care what you think you deserve or what you think I deserve, I don't care what you think of yourself because I know you're better than your worst thoughts, I would have transferred out of this department long ago otherwise, how can you, after almost seven years, think that I would see the real you and run? I don't run, god, how can you believe such-?”

 

“Such what? Such truth? Face it, Riza, I'm never going to be a knight in shining armor for anyone, I'm not a hero-.”

 

“Such bull shit!” she yelled in Roy's face, loud enough that the whole office probably knew they were fighting, “I care about you! We all care about you! Isn't that enough?! You are not the only person here that believes in what we do! We all believe in changing this place for the good! We all believe in you! I believe in you! I-”

 

She stopped, biting her lips as those words were on the tip of her tongue. As his hands lowered till his dark eyes could look at her hopefully, the words finally spilled, “I love you, you bastard, isn't that enough?”

 

For a brief moment, the hope in his eyes lit up till his heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. But, just as suddenly as that feeling bloomed, it withered slowly, bleeding away under the weight of his guilt. Roy lowered hands, the frown and his downcast eyes telling her enough. He didn't need to speak but he did anyway, twisting into her more painfully then a knife, “No, I'm sorry, but it isn't enough.”

 

Riza lashed out in her grief and anger, the slap against his cheek resounding throughout the small room. Her hand stung but at least it was her hand. She quickly pulled her skirt back down and slipped her feet into her heels before storming across the room. Roy just sat there, numb, even to the slam of the door when she was gone. It was probably out of sheer stupidity why he did it, or his inclination to torture himself, or maybe it was just so hard to let it go and let himself be happy. But now, all he could think about at that moment wasn't himself, but her. It was for her own good he kept telling himself, maybe that would let him sleep that night. Self-sacrifice was a noble enough reason, even if it now made him feel like a liar. He was a hero, just a stupid, foolish one. He was a hero in love, and heroes always gave up the ones they loved for their own good, didn't they? He loved her. Despite the day from hell, he realized that he really, genuinely, loved her. And now she would be gone . . . What had he just done?

 

**********

 

To Be Continued in Part 2 of A Betting Crowd, Cutting the Losses.