AN: a birthday gift for lexi, whose birthday is today! happy birthday!

alternate summary: soulmate au where street boy roy meets rich girl riza

Stealing from the rich was always a doddle. Roy grinned to himself as he heard the commotion he had left in his wake. The enraged calls, the befuddled questions, the shouts demanding answers. He vaulted over a very expensive looking mahogany desk with no regard for whatever lay upon it. If he had bothered to look, he would have seen they were expenses reports, the amounts far exceeding anything he could ever hope to earn in his lifetime.

It was probably better he didn't look.

As he rounded a corner towards the window of his escape, Roy skidded to a halt.

Shit.

There was someone who was standing between him and his escape, and it wasn't his blonde-haired partner for the night. A girl? No, even from behind she looked older than a girl. A young woman. Her short, blonde hair caught in moonlight streaming through the open window, the cold, winter breeze ruffling her locks, her fringe shifting so Roy briefly saw her face.

She turned to the right – to face the direction of the commotion – and Roy's breath caught in his throat. She was beautiful.

"Elizabeth!" a man hollered from somewhere in the mansion. "Ge in here, now!"

The woman flinched at the tone, sighing softly, unaware there was a young man watching her every move, enraptured by her beauty in the moonlight. Sensing eyes on her, she turned to peer down the gloomy hallway, freezing mid step, like a deer caught in the path of a fast-moving carriage.

"Riza!"

She jumped in fright after being momentarily distracted by the stranger, eyes turning worriedly towards that voice, before snapping back to face the intruder in her home. Although concerned by the fact that a possible family member of the man he'd robbed had caught Roy red handed, his stomach sunk for an entirely other reason.

Riza was the name that was tattooed on his wrist.

"Who – Who are you?" she whispered. There was no fear in her voice. It was controlled with a hint of bewilderment.

Something stirred within him upon finding out her name – and the fact that it matched the name tattooed on him.

Could this be her?

Riza wasn't a common name, certainly not in Amestris. Believe him, Roy had done his research. He'd yet to come across another woman who held that name. Not to mention the fact that there was a tightening of his chest, a flutter in his stomach, and a voice in his head screaming that this woman before him was The One.

Shit.

"I won't ask again," she warned, planting one foot slightly behind her, as if ready to fight Roy if need be. "Who are you?"

The way she spoke… This was a woman of status, clearly, so probably the daughter of Berthold Hawkeye. Judging by the house she lived in, she and her family were on the highest rung of society. The butler patrolling the floor below them as Roy and Havoc had scoped the place out confirmed that. The two doormen in expertly crafted and beautiful uniforms standing by the main entrance to the manor also confirmed that.

It was so large it didn't even have a front door, just a main entrance. They had checked, discovering doors on every cardinal side of the property. Obviously having one door and walking around a manor this size was too taxing for the rich.

Not to mention the two-mile-long driveway to said main entrance, lined with expertly trimmed trees without a leaf out of place. Roy had muttered to his partner that the square shaped trees looked stupid as hell, and Havoc snorted in response before agreeing with him.

The rich were strange creatures.

Roy swallowed.

He didn't belong in this world, even if this woman was his soul mate. He was well off, but not in the ways polite society would approve of. His Aunt ran a brothel in the centre of the city – which was very popular and very successful, thank you very much – and Roy had grown up there, making his way in the world by pouring drinks and acting as the muscle should anyone get too handsy or rowdy.

This Riza wouldn't want to be a part of that. Roy knew that for sure.

"Sir –"

"Mustang," he blurted out, forgoing the use of his first name. If she knew his real name, then Roy didn't want to deal with the fallout of having supposedly the other half of his soul turn his nose up at him. Too many people had already done that to him in his life. "The name's Mustang."

"And what are you doing in my home?" she demanded.

He liked to think of himself as a Robin Hood type hero. He took from those who already had too much, and were too tight with their cash, to give to those who needed it most. He sold whatever expensive looking thing he could get his hands on – most of the time his targets were so rich they didn't even notice their belongings were gone – and distributed the money between the orphans in the city with the help of his Aunt. He had been nicknamed "Big Brother", and while that was incredibly cute, he wished he didn't have to do it in the first place.

No one else would care for those orphans. It was the least Roy could do as an orphan himself.

Before Madame Christmas – his paternal Aunt – had found him, Roy had lied and stole to make his way on the streets for two years. The result? He had tried to steal food from his Aunt's kitchen, causing the woman to do a double take as a snarling twelve-year-old Roy wriggled in one of her bodyguard's grip, demanding to be let go. The Madame had just chuckled in disbelief, ordered him to be dropped. Before Roy could run, she had him by his dirty collar, ordering him to go wash up for dinner. And that was the end of his time on the streets.

"If I told you the truth, you wouldn't be very happy about it," he smirked, relaxing his stance to show he thought he was in control here. Hopefully that would put this heiress on edge. In truth his eyes flicked towards the window as he mentally calculated his next nearest exit from the plans Hughes had gotten a hold of the other night.

"Try me."

Surprised by her words and confident tone, Roy shrugged and decided to indulge her as he leaned against the wall casually, hooking one ankle over the back of the other. "I stole something from your father, and I don't think he's very happy about it." Roy took a step forward, noting how the woman tensed. "Now, if you wouldn't mind –"

He was cut off by another roar, her father calling her name once more. It even made goose flesh rise on Roy's flesh. He raised an eyebrow at her reaction, noticing the slight hint of fear on her face.

Then the footsteps began to sound closer.

He needed to go. He needed to go now.

Roy strode towards the window but was stopped by a restraining hand on his chest. Riza, eyes wide and expression earnest, shook her head frantically and grabbed his hand. Opening his mouth to protest, Riza shushed him as loudly as she dared. A hidden doorway opened to their left, revealing a cupboard space with two shelves above head height, both holding two stacks of white towels.

It was also big enough to hide two people.

Riza tugged him inside.

Well, just big enough for two people, if said two people's bodies were pressed against each other dangerously closely, their breaths mingling together in the dim space.

Shit…

She was too close. It was wreaking havoc on his mind.

Tilting his chin downwards, Roy almost bumped it against her head. He had to tilt his whole head to the side to avoid colliding with her own if he wanted to look up or down. His eyes met hers, questioning her with his expression and his eyes, asking exactly why she had pulled them into here to hide.

Riza shook her head, lifting a finger atop her lips to indicate he should remain quiet.

Unfortunately, said hand brushed against his abdomen and Roy's intake of breath was incredibly noticeable in the cramped space.

Before he had a chance to react to that with embarrassment, a shadow passed by a tiny slit in the doorway, revealing a bearded man with long, blonde hair storming passed, followed by two other men. One was average height with short, cropped black hair. The other was of similar height, but slimmer build, his black hair also short while sporting ridiculous looking moustache.

"Sir, if I may –"

"No, you may not, Marco," the blonde man growled as they passed through the hallway. "I want security in there now and I want my documents found."

The noise of their conversation trailed off as they moved through the mansion. Barely daring to breathe – partly in fear of being discovered, the other in fear of inhaling this woman's' tantalising aroma – Roy waited for her to make the first move.

That was a mistake because for Riza to move she had to press her body hard against his, a hand braced on his chest, to reach for the handle, something Roy stupidly realised had been on his side all along. Again, he held his breath, closing his eyes against the image and sensations against his body. They were squeezed shut, blocking out the smell of her hair and perfume which complimented each other nicely. Some of her short hair brushed against his cheek. His knees shook.

This soulmate stuff was bullshit and he hated it.

As soon as Roy piled out he put as much distance between them as possible. He made a beeline for his initial escape route, desperate to get out of here and away from her.

"Wait –" she whispered, and Roy turned around. He cursed himself, unable to stop the movements. Whatever bond they shared apparently had control over him right now and this was not what he needed. "What did you take?"

"That doesn't concern you, my lady," Roy replied, voice strained from their brief spell in that cupboard.

Riza's expression softened, a lovely smile gracing her features. "Well, I hope it brings him hell."

Roy blinked in surprise, that reply wholly unexpected.

"Riza!" her father screamed again, voice breaking with his anger.

Roy feared what would await her, should she finally approach her father. He wanted to stay, felt an inexplicable urge to remain here to protect her from the raging man. From his tone in the way he called for her, it would be nothing good.

But he couldn't get caught. He was a good thief, but that was something the Madame made abundantly clear to all her staff, even if Roy was her own flesh and blood.

If they got caught, they held no affiliation to the Madame whatsoever. They were working towards a better world, to give those who struggled most in poverty a chance at a better life, but if they were found out, those in power and those who had the most to lose – the rich and famous – would put an end to their operation.

Turning away was hard as he sprinted for the open window. He nimbly climbed out, taking a deep breath of the cold night air to try and clear his head.

"My name is Riza," she called softly out the window as Roy deftly descended the tree.

Oh, he knew her name all right. He knew because it had been tattooed on his skin for the last twenty-seven years of his life. Since he was two years old.

He knew, because he felt the lingering feeling of her hand brushing against his abdomen in that closet, had revelled in the closeness they had shared while his soul sung, happy to have finally found its missing piece.

Too bad she would never want to be a part of his world, and he would never be permitted into hers.

Roy chuckled humourlessly to himself as he broke into a sprint, hoping the strenuous exercise would burn all thoughts of the woman he was leaving behind.

It didn't work.

"What's got your underwear in a bunch?" Hughes demanded from Roy's left, piling his plate high with mashed potatoes, topping it off with gravy. Havoc sat to his right, oblivious to Roy's mood because there was now food in front of him.

"Nothing."

Hughes snorted. "I beg to differ."

"It's nothing," Roy ground out, picking at his own food.

"Roy," the Madame barked. Other people at the table jumped at the sudden rise in volume, but Roy was used to it now. "Stop playing with your food and eat it. I didn't spend hours cooking just for you to stab at it," she glared. "And elbows off the table."

Sighing, Roy removed his head from leaning against his closed fist. His arm thumped heavily into his lap as he lifted a forkful of roast beef to his mouth. After tonight his appetite was completely gone.

"We need to go back to that Hawkeye house," Hughes stated. "We –"

Roy's stomach sank, the knot in it twisting painfully, but Hughes was cut off.

"No business talk at the table," the Madame barked, glaring at Hughes, who shrivelled underneath it. "This is family time."

"Yes ma'am," Havoc muttered under his breath. Hughes snorted loudly and even Roy cracked a smile.

"Care to share with the rest of the class, Jean Havoc?" Christmas asked evenly.

Boy, he's in trouble now.

"No, ma'am," he replied, all sass gone from his tone.

"I didn't think so," she sniffed.

Chatter around their large table picked up once the scolding was over. The bar was closed tonight, it was a Monday and they never had anyone in for food on a Monday evening, so the Madame dubbed this day as family dinner night years ago. Maes Hughes and Jean Havoc weren't technically family, but they were like brothers to Roy and that was enough for his Aunt. Others around their table included the ginger, portly man Heymans Breda, the tall, greying Vato Falman, and the young, fresh faced, new to their game, Kain Fuery. The Hughes family was also fully present, Gracia Hughes sitting next to the Madame and chatting away happily while Elicia Hughes ate her food without complaint all by herself – something she was very proud of. Every so often she would look over at her father and "Uncle Roy" and beam, the epitome of pride. The only thing that would draw a smile from Roy was the sight of Elicia kicking her feet in her high chair happily as she laughed to herself.

Other members around the table were the woman who worked for the Madame. She was an expert in dealing with information, and these woman – Roy's "sisters", they had dubbed themselves while he was growing up – were also experts in their chosen skill set. Roy was proud of each and every one of them for all they had done with their lives and the skills and knowledge they had obtained. They were orphans and outcasts, or woman who'd had some run in with the law – the Madame had managed to wrangle them out of those situations somehow and Roy wasn't sure he wanted to know how – but they had taken the second chance offered to them with eager hearts and made something of themselves. That was all the Madame asked of those she took under her wing; respect the chance they had been given and in turn work your ass off to make something of yourself. They were all good people and Roy couldn't have asked for a better family to surround himself with.

After dinner they retired to the lounge while the Madame and some of the girls entered the bar to work for the evening. Conversation turned towards their work from a few hours ago, and Roy felt that knot in his stomach tighten again unpleasantly.

Regardless of whether or not work pulled Roy back to that home, he knew he would return. He felt a terrible pull back to that woman and no matter how much he tried to squash it down and force it out of his mind, there was no stopping it. It was akin to a burning thirst and would only be satisfied when he was in her company again.

Finding his soulmate wasn't going as he had imagined it would.

Secondly, he wanted to know she was okay after hearing the way her father called for her. And, finally, Roy wanted to know why she'd done it. Why had she helped him hide? Why had she wished hell upon her own father?

Another part of him wondered if Riza felt anything similar. She didn't know his real name, and some people say the connection doesn't fully form until the person's name is known, but did she feel this pull towards him?

Only one way to find out.

"Roy," Hughes barked, brow furrowed as he stared at his oldest friend. "Have you heard anything I've just said?"

"No," he replied truthfully. "Sorry."

"What is up with you?" Hughes asked, frustrated, and understandably so.

"Noth –"

"Bullshit," Havoc piped up, his own expression mirroring Hughes'.

Whoops.

Roy sighed heavily, deciding now was a good a time as ever. If he wanted to go back and see her – not that he should, he just knew she wouldn't want to be associated with the likes of him – he would need his friend's help and they deserved to know why they were risking their necks to help him.

He rolled up his sleeve and revealed the tattoo on his wrist. Both men peered at the black letters, failing to see the significance of the word.

"Riza? And?" Hughes asked. "You've had that for years."

"Wait…" Havoc began, trailing off as he wracked his brain. No doubt going back to the meeting they'd had yesterday when Breda revealed the mansion's plans and informed them of the people residing there.

Berthold Hawkeye and his daughter, Riza.

Roy had glazed over the names, more focussed on the blueprints than anything else. After all, the people weren't important. What was important was the package he was being sent in to retrieve.

Not that he knew the contents, that was for the Madame's eyes only.

Now it came rushing back unpleasantly like a bucket of cold water being poured over his head.

"As in, Riza Hawkeye?" Havoc stated into the silent room. "The heiress?" Roy nodded, pulling his sleeve back over that cursed tattoo.

Hughes chuckled while Havoc whistled lowly. "Oh boy. You're in trouble," Hughes commented.

"Don't you think I know that?" Roy snapped, rounding on his friend. He stood and strode over to the liquor cabinet, roughly pulling a decanter of whisky from within. He took two shots, trying to get rid of this ache in his chest with the burn.

It didn't work.

"So," Hughes began casually standing from his chair and stretching. "We're going back?"

Roy didn't expect Hughes to say that. "What?"

"We're going back," he replied, arms lowering back to his side as he straightened. Roy laughed in disbelief. Hughes was speaking as if that course of action was obvious.

"No."

"Uh, yes we are," Hughes reassured him. "Right, Havoc?"

"Hell yeah."

Hughes was all right, he had met his soulmate years ago. Over time the black writing on his wrist had turned to gold, same with Gracia's. Havoc still hadn't met his yet, the name Rebecca a constant reminder of the woman he was trying to find.

"And why would an heiress want to associate herself with the likes of us?"

Havoc scoffed. "Speak for yourself," he muttered under his breath.

"We're thieves," Roy reminded them. "We stole from her father," he added, neglecting to mention how she didn't seem to care and genuinely encouraged Roy to take said item. "Why would we be welcome?"

"You're her soulmate."

"Polite society wouldn't see it that way."

"Who gives a fuck about polite society?" Havoc asked, lighting up a cigarette. "If anything, you would be doing this woman a favour, saving her from that lot."

"We won't know until we talk to her, so we're going back," Hughes added, clapping Roy on the back cheerily. He grunted at the painful impact, the whisky in his glass almost spilling.

"We're not," Roy bit out. A lie.

"We are. Or, Havoc and I can go back without you if you want to wallow in "what ifs" and "this will never happens"." Hughes waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "We can talk to the fine young lady and reveal your secret."

"No thank you," Roy cut in immediately, pressing the whisky glass into a laughing Hughes' hands as he began to pace.

Was he really considering this? Of course, there was a massive chance she may not approve of him. Not that Roy cared what other people thought of him – living on the streets burned that nonsense out of him years ago – but the thought of the other half of his soul rejecting him may sting a little.

Okay, a lot.

And he couldn't get out of his head how she had encouraged him and didn't seem fazed by the fact he was stealing from her. She obviously knew he was a thief. He had admitted that, but she didn't recoil.

Instead she pulled him into a very close quarters hiding spot and waited with bated breath while her raging father passed by, motioning for him to be silent.

That damned hiding spot. His abdomen still tingled from her touch hours ago. He could still smell her shampoo.

She had helped him.

Fuck.

He really was in trouble.

"Mustang," Havoc called to him, pulling him from his thoughts. Both his friends were standing in between the seating area, watching Roy as he moved. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"You're both soulmates. She won't turn you away."

"We'll see about that," Roy muttered, sighing. He nodded in agreement to this crazy plan, causing both his friends to grin and share a look.

"Our baby boy is growing up," Hughes sniffed, wiping at a "tear" as he reached to ruffle Roy's hair.

"Shut it, Hughes," Roy growled, ducking and leaving the room to the sound of their laughter.

this ended up just shy of 11k lmao it spiraled way out of control but i'm ok with it