A/N: Bookshop/Awful First Meeting AU from a Tumblr prompt requested by tomoehawkeye. Royai. Enjoy :)
Comprehensive Toxicology
Toxicology (n.): the scientific study of adverse effects that occur in living organisms due to chemical
Friday
Counting down the minutes until the end of her shift, Riza shuffles in her seat.
The man still isn't done talking, his mouth spouting a long sermon of something chemical or other...
When her stomach grumbles for the millionth time, her mind wanders to the piece of marbled steak sitting in her refrigerator, the man's lecture conveniently neglected as her mouth waters. She can imagine the meat searing on the cast iron pan, the hissing of fat as it touches the hot surface. And that wonderful scent. Riza can already sniff her butter-basted dinner among the distinct odor of old-bound books, where she still has five more minutes until she calls it quits for the night. And the novel waiting for her by the bedside table... Oh, the desire to go home is strong.
But the man before her? His nonsense speech leaves a lot to be desired.
Behind the rectangular-rimmed spectacles are intense onyx eyes that bore into her soul. His hair, as dark as the sky, would have left much more of an impressionable first meeting if it weren't all sticking out and disheveled. These, plus his enormous backpack that sits high on his back...
Alas, his pitiful appearance reminds Riza of those library-lived-in college students who care more about earning A-pluses in every one of their classes rather than worry about proper hygiene. But at least the man doesn't stink. Actually, he smells rather nice and masculine. A hint vanilla and fresh wood, perhaps? Her eyes trail down. His rolled up sleeves show forearms that are oddly muscular. She ventures further down, noticing a firm set of abs underneath the tight wrapping of his white shirt. These definitely don't escape her Hawk's eyes...
Her belly groans once again. She sneaks a glance at her cellphone. 6:56PM. The ten-minute conversation he's struck feels like a whole hour.
"And every bookstore should have this book. It's not new but-"
"So you're looking for Comprehensive Toxicology? I really just need the title, sir," Riza affirms, cutting off his speech.
"Well… yes. And my name is Roy Mustang."
"Okay, Mr. Mustang, if you would do me a favor and go to the last aisle over there, we have all of our chemistry textbooks there for your perusal," Riza says, forcing a polite smile, index finger pointing to a humongous sign hanging from the ceiling that says 'SCIENCES'.
Twisting his head to glimpse at the high wall filled with colorful book covers, Roy briefly looks back at Riza, saying, "I would appreciate it if you can help me look."
"But my shift is ov-"
Someone clears his throat from behind her. Riza spins around, finding her manager Shou Tucker giving her a disapproving stare. "Lady, the boy needs some help. Go help him."
One more year, she tells herself. Only one more year.
Once she's done with her undergrad and has the freedom to find a new job - a real job, she'll make sure to return to this damn part-time only to shove a huge piece of chalk in Tucker's mouth like unfinished business. God knows how strange it is for the man to obsess over drawing circles, decorating it each time with an impressively neat cursive all around the border. It's as if he's trying to perform some kind of dark magic…
For now all Riza can do is to follow Tucker's order. Her tuition is at stake after all. And she has promised herself that she will never ever take her father's monetary donation if it means he can meddle with her life.
"Alright Mr. Mustang. Please follow me," she huffs, hoping none of the men detect the annoyance in her tone as she drags herself to what has just become the darkest, most derisive aisle in the whole bookstore.
"Thank you, Lady. I may not know the author's name, but it is the 2nd edition and it was printed in 2010," Roy explains.
"You know that kind of information won't help me, right? And 'Lady' isn't my name. My manager calls every woman who works here 'Lady'. Besides, calling me that makes me sound… old."
"You called me Mr. Mustang. That makes me sound old. I'm only twenty-four," he says, curling his mouth into something between a half-smirk and a half-smile. It's quite charming actually, if she may say so herself.
"Okay then Roy age twenty-four. It's Roy, right? I will need you to continue your search alone because I have to go home and feed my dog."
"What's your name?" he asks so candidly as though he's ignored everything else she has just said.
She has to muster every ounce of willpower not to roll her eyes. "Riza."
"Riza… Riza…" he chants her name under his breath, rolling the R's like it's the most exotic sound he's ever come across. If he doesn't have broodingly handsome features, he would have seemed more like a stalker than anything, saying her name like that.
But she's still hungry and she's still irritated.
"So what's a girl like you doing here?" he asks, expression intrigued, as he flicks a thick book from the shelf.
Her cheeks puff, annoyed. "Uh, I'm working?"
"I mean, why aren't you at a party? It's Friday night," he probes, poring over a large textbook in his hands.
Mindlessly, she says, "I don't like to party all that much. Besides, I never got an invitation to one."
"Oh," Roy simply says, finally looking at her. "I thought pretty girls always get invited to all the nice parties."
A stubborn flush rises to her cheeks. Answering his previous question seems the better route than having to concede to his rather bold compliment. "Um well, I need money to pay for tuition. That's why I'm working." Maybe he's not so bad after all, she thinks.
"The hypothalamus of the brain plays a large role in the production of testosterone. And testosterone drives lust," Roy says matter-of-factly.
"Sorry, what?"
Casually, he explains, "If you want to make tons of money, you should be working at a bar where men can enjoy the view. The tips are great."
Riza isn't sure if she heard him correctly, her crying stomach most likely playing tricks on her hearing. Or so she thinks. Yet, she can't stifle the offended tone in her voice, "Uh, excuse me?"
"You should work at a bar," he repeats, innocently, giving her an attractive smile that pushes and pulls the boundary of her anger to resolve between punching him or biting his lips insensibly.
Okay, so she did hear him correctly. But more importantly, why would she think about kissing him and biting his lips if he had just offended her. It's her hunger, she decides, it's making her delirious. Restoring her rage, she snarls, "Well, sir, I will be taking my leave now. You can help yourself with the book!"
And with that, she marches to the register to retrieve her purse and take her leave for the night, leaving Roy with a peculiar shade to his face.
Saturday
"I couldn't find the book last night."
She looks up from her novel (at least she has that perk while working here), meeting a set of dark, captivating eyes. "Ah. It's you again," she says with disdain.
Roy taps a hesitant finger on the counter, his posture timid. "Will you... help me look? The lady last night couldn't help me find it…"
"If by 'the lady last night' you mean Sheska, then you must be crazy. That woman can find anything in the store. Anything," Riza asserts, narrowing her gaze, skeptical.
"Well she didn't find what I'm looking for."
"What is it again?"
"The study of adverse effects in living organisms due to chemical-"
"The title. Please," she sighs, praying for patience. Unlike yesterday, she still has a good two hours until the end of her shift. And if she has to be in his company for two hours - two whole hours, then either her mind will go insane or her heart will automatically feel guilty from all the hostility she shoots towards him.
The extremely short walk to the 'SCIENCES' aisle feels like a trek to the Himalayas as she lumbers unwillingly. No apology spurts from his mouth for what he had said last night. If anything, by the way he exudes confidence as he lectures her a brief course of chemical compounds of love and lust, his intention to return today seems to be less about the book and more about convincing her to pursue this bar job. Her hand raises to dismiss his suggestion. But then he fires her a wide smile, still as handsome and appealing as last night's, which she swiftly swats from her mind as her pulse beats a sudden, loud thump inside her chest.
"The brain produces endorphins. It's like opium. It creates an addiction," Roy plainly says. When she gives him a questioning look, he adds, "All I am saying is that your beauty should not be wasted when it can be shown off to the world."
"You're ridiculous," she murmurs, forcing her eyes to the ground as her cheeks begin to heat against her will.
He stoops down to grab a book from the bottom shelf, stealing a glimpse of her face. "Riza?"
"Yes?"
"Your cheeks are red."
The day can't get any worse than this.
Sunday
Setting down a floral-paper crane on the counter, Roy smiles warmly as she looks up. "This is for you. A pretty origami for a pretty lady." He nudges the folded item towards her, his surprisingly sweet gesture making her heart skip a beat.
"Oh, thank you," she replies, astonished, placing her breakfast croissant atop a napkin.
His other hand, cleverly concealed behind the counter, is raised, revealing a grande-sized cup of coffee. "And this is for you. Americano. And here's a pack of sugar and cream since I'm not sure how you take your coffee," he says, "it's still very early, so I figured you could use the caffeine boost."
Ah, so he can be quite charming if he wants to be, Riza surmises, unable to suppress the small smile that creeps across her lips. "That's very kind of you." Slapping the novel perching on her lap to a close, Riza beams, thinking his presence may turn out to be a good start to her Sunday, "I take it you want to find the book that we couldn't find yesterday?"
"Yes," he nods, eager.
As she tracks the tip of her finger through the row of book spines, a part of her is starting to wonder if this book actually exists. And finding this out is easy, really. After all, she can just type the title into the computer… and voila, the catalogue will do all the search for her in a matter of seconds. But a part of her doesn't understand this curious desire to play along with his innocent (or perhaps, not so innocent) inquiry.
No matter. She will entertain him for the day. Eyeing the furthest end of the aisle, she asks, amiable, "How's your day so far, Roy?"
"Great," he says, falling into step beside her as she ambles away.
"That's good," Riza replies with an adorable smile, catching his furtive glance at her.
Abruptly, as though caught off guard, Roy remarks, his expression darkening, "Riza, are you aware of the ideal female waist-to-hip ratio as well as body fat percentage?"
She shakes her head. "No."
Gently, he grips her shoulders, looking into her eyes. It sets off a pleasant flip in her stomach. "The waist-to-hip ratio and body fat percentage are both significant factors to female attractiveness. You seem to enjoy that croissant of yours, but did you know that croissants contain layers and layers of butter? Butter contains saturated fat. Lots of it. And, given time and constant consumption, it will surely increase your waist-to-hip ratio and body fat percentage." With a solemn appearance, he adds, "Your body doesn't need the extra fat."
Her brows knit unpleasantly and her lips thin into a frown. Did he just call her fat? She sighs, now feeling very conscious of her body shape. She debates between socking him on the face or starting up that gym membership again.
Monday
Today is her first day off in a week.
Lazily, she shoves herself out the door and into the bathroom as the sun glares garishly into her room. She twists on the faucet, contemplative eyes on the mirror.
Unbidden, she wonders, since they couldn't find the book yesterday, if Roy will be at the bookstore again today.
Tuesday
"Why do you need this book so badly anyway?" Riza asks, actually curious after almost half a week of searching.
"My chemistry professor insists we study using this book," Roy replies, the curve of his nail underlining the title of a green-covered textbook.
"This guy must be a hardass if he's so insistent on using this phantom book," she derides, chuckling.
"He's a hardass alright," Roy replies, grinning. "And he's a tough grader. Very nitpicky."
"Ooof, sorry to hear that. Must be a bitch to have him as a professor," Riza says, teasingly.
"He's a bitch. Totally."
"An asshole, too?"
Roy nods. "Definitely an asshole."
"What's his name?"
"Professor Hawkeye."
What are the chances of that, Riza marvels, laughing surreptitiously. Caring little of what others think of her father, Riza decides to pull a prank on him, the image of his shocked expression coaxing her into doing. Acting out her Oscar-winning performance, she smooths her playful expression into seriousness. She says, "Ah Roy, I haven't told you. But my name is Riza Hawkeye. Professor Hawkeye is my father."
In as quick as a second, his face blanches, the color slipping away as a sickly paleness takes over. Then his jaw drops in horror.
Riza maintains her severe appearance anyway.
Wednesday
"Where's that boy that's always bothering you?" Sheska asks.
While her coworker's question seems as innocent as her face, Riza can't help but cringe at the implication of Roy being something more than a regular customer. "Maybe it's his day off. Ha-ha," Riza jokes.
But she does wonder…
Thursday
"Oh, is it his second day off?" Sheska quips, smiling at Riza. "It's almost closing and he never showed up!"
"I don't know, Sheska… I'm not his mother."
Friday
Watching the clock intently as it strikes 10PM, Riza feels her late dinner stir in her stomach, sour and repulsive. Her heart sinks. It's closing time.
Did he finally find his book at another bookstore? Or did she perhaps scare him off by joking about her father?
With a sad twist of her mouth, dejected and miserable, she decides that her joke may have been a little too much. After all, as much as she hates to admit, a part of her - somewhere deep down inside - misses his silly grin and his endearing nerdiness and awkwardness and his surprisingly muscular body and his dark, beautiful eyes…
Saturday
In a foul mood, Riza stacks the newly arrived book in the back corner of the store, keeping her mind and her heart busy from pondering where that damn Roy-guy has run off to. With three days of his absence, the chances of him returning has become less and less likely…
"What the hell am I doing?" Riza mutters under her breath, resting a perspiring palm on her chest.
Picking up a book that falls from her arm, Riza kneels. As she springs up at the speed of light, she feels her bum knocking against someone behind her. Turning around to apologize, she says, "Oh I'm sorry, I didn't know someone's standing-"
Roy's piercing gaze greets her. Like the excited laps of waves, it washes her limbs with exhilaration. Like the seagulls singing a celebratory squark, her heart soars into the sky.
"Riza," he says, closing their distance.
"Y-yes?" she stammers, her cheeks reddening, her heartbeat drumming quicker than Ringo Starr's fast shuffle at 96 beats per minute.
"My friend Maes told me to be honest with myself. And with you." He grabs her hands, gripping it tightly, as if letting go would make her disappear in an instant. Flustered, Roy says, "My brain produces dopamine everytime I see you. It makes me feel energetic and giddy and euphoric… and asinine as I lose my train of thoughts each time you smile. But dopamine overdose is also toxic… it messes with sequence learning and cognitive tasks…"
Slightly confused, she searches his gaze, the bridge of her nose wrinkling. "Wha-what are you trying to say, Roy? I'm not… You're not making much sense..."
"I think I may have suffered from dopamine overdose when... I couldn't stop thinking about you," he says, diffident, eyes set to the floor.
"So it's not what I said about my father that drove you away…?" she questions, "and are these scientific terms a code for something…?" The air around her suddenly feels ten degrees hotter, his skin scorching against hers.
His gaze finally ventures upward, from the ground and into her heart, rendering her breathless. "Well, no to the first question, and yes to the second. What I'm really trying to say is I want to ask if you're… free..." Shyly, he lets go of a hand to rub the back of his head, his eyes looking away once again. Only then Riza notices that he has slicked his hair back today. His attire, while still casual, is less of a hardworking college student and more of a fully functioning adult about to take a girl out on a date.
Understanding full well what he means, Riza giggles, "Well then, shall we search for Comprehensive Toxicology? I am sure it'll hold the cure to your… dopamine overdose."
This time he's the one that looks confused. "Riza, I've already found that book days ago..."
Fondly, she cups his cheeks with clammy hands, saying with an amused tone, "No, silly. That's not what I'm saying at all."
"W-what?" Roy asks, blanketing his hands over hers with a slight reluctance.
With an assuring smile, Riza moves to plant a kiss on his cheek, slow and tender, letting her lips linger there a second longer than necessary. Whispering in his ear, she says, "Roy, Comprehensive Toxicology is my code for saying yes to that date."