A/N: Just a small plotbunny to get me writing! I promise I haven't given up on "Insanity Defense"; I'll get the last part up soon! Review if you feel so inclined- reviews make me a better writer. :D
It was one of those nights again. Riza sighed a little bit, trying to hide her small smile. Just about once a month, someone suggested that everyone go out to a bar for awhile- the underlying implication being that all would get completely smashed. Riza didn't drink –well, much- and while she viewed these special evenings with a fair amount of dread, she also enjoyed them. It proved very entertaining and sometimes even informative to listen to the men blabber on without inhibitions.
But as the (relatively) sober one, Riza was also on babysitting duty. Half the time, she was tempted to leave that one man- because there was always one who had drank more than the rest- there in the bar overnight, but she always relented and took them home. She tucked them into bed and normally stayed the night to help with their hangover in the morning. Most often it was Mustang, due to his penchant for drinking games, but she'd had to do it for all of the men at some point. Some of the mornings-after had been more interesting than others; Breda and Havoc immediately assuming the worst though she'd slept on the couch (and envisioning their fiery deaths) and Fuery turning red as a tomato, stammering, and looking away every time she looked in his direction.
Tonight, Riza decided, it would be the Colonel she'd be taking care of- it had barely been an hour but he had already had quite a few shots. Breda was sitting next to him, quite drunk as well, but with a conspiratorial grin on his face. Though, as she had observed, everything was sneakier when you were drunk. Falmann was still sipping his beer, though she knew he'd be downing it by the end of the night, and Havoc was drinking hard already. Riza was most amused at Fuery, who was gazing at his drink with a mixture of awe and fear- he obviously remembered what had happened last time he'd tried to hold as much alcohol as the Colonel. So Riza sat back and watched with half lidded eyes, sipping wine and smiling a little as her boys went completely crazy.
It was later, much later, when the boys started shuffling out of the bar. Riza stood and glanced over them with a critical eye. Most of them lived within walking distance, so she cleared them to go.
"Breda, Colonel, come with me. I'm driving you home."
It was obvious who was more drunk- Mustang hung off of Riza as she supported him on the way to the car- but Breda lived far away and she wasn't going to let him drive.
The men shuffled into the backseat of her car and settled in. Riza started driving, trying to keep her attention on the dark roads.
But soon enough, she felt her hair fall out of her hair clip. She reflexively put a hand to the back of her neck, and in her mirror saw Mustang looking at the plastic reverently, then at her hair.
"Your hair… is so shiny," he said, amazed.
Breda started laughing hysterically and kept glancing at him for a moment before bursting into laughter again. Mustang looked at him, incredulous.
"You don't think it's shiny?" he asked, hurt.
Breda was laughing too hard to answer, and Riza sighed. They really had had too much to drink.
Soon enough, Riza pulled up to Breda's apartment complex. He got out, wobbling.
"Will you be alright?"
"Sure, just take care of the boss, here," he said, saluting sloppily before dissolving into laughter again.
Riza rolled her eyes and watched him walk into the building before driving away.
She turned back to Mustang, who was still admiring her hair clip.
"Are you still alright, sir?"
He looked into her eyes, squinting. Then he pulled back, shocked.
"Your eyes are reddish-brown!"
Riza sighed again.
"How very astute of you, sir."
"As-tute. Ha, that sounds like ass toot."
Riza turned around sharply and gripped the wheel tightly. But Roy wasn't finished waxing poetic.
"But your eyes, are like, like..." he grasped at the air. "They're like... red!"
"Again, sir, you do have a future as a poet."
She suppressed the urge to throttle him and gunned the engine.
They arrived at Roy's place in minutes. She turned off the car and then got out to help the Colonel out of the car. She threw an arm around him and he sagged onto her dramatically.
"Rrrrrrrrrrrrrriza. Rrrrrrrriza," he said, rolling the Rs.
"Yes, sir?" The Colonel was truly wasted tonight, she thought.
"You're pretty."
She stopped in her tracks and almost dropped him. He looked at her with a hurt expression.
"What? You are sooo pretty, and when you get scary, you're pretty too!" His head lolled onto her shoulder.
Riza tried to hide her shock and her faint blush.
"Maybe you shouldn't talk, Colonel."
"But I wanna!" He stomped and dropped to the ground.
God, this is like dealing with a child, she thought.
"Come on, Colonel."
"No."
"What will get you to move?"
He turned wide but devious eyes towards her.
"Call me Roy."
Her mouth dropped into an O.
"You always used to when I was learnin'," he whined. "It's not fair!"
"Fine… Roy," she added quickly.
He staggered to his feet and they made it to his apartment without further incident.
She propped open the door, dragged Roy inside, and closed it with her foot. She guided Roy towards his bed, then sat him down and started unlacing his boots. He stared down at her blonde head and appeared to be thinking hard.
She glanced up at him. He was chewing on his lip, brain working rapidly.
Then his face lit up.
"I love you!" he happily proclaimed.
Riza almost choked on her own saliva.
"Love..?" she sputtered.
When he saw her expression, he grasped her hands earnestly. She looked down at their joined hands, incredulous.
"I really do! Ever since…" he chewed on his lip again. "Ever since right after Ishval," he decided.
Riza could only gape, once more. Then her face cracked into a tiny, cynical smile.
"Well, hell with it, you won't remember this tomorrow anyway."
"I love you, Roy Mustang!" she declared dramatically. Then, her face became serious. "Have ever since I showed you my tattoo."
She sat lost in thought for a minute, then pulled back the covers and forced Roy to lie down. She was at the light switch when Roy whispered to her.
"Rrrrrriza?"
"What, Roy?" she asked, exasperated.
He sat up, his speech clear and crisp, and flashed her a shit-eating grin.
"I'm not really drunk."
Next door, an old man and his wife awoke to the sound of gunshots.
"Are they at it again?" the man asked, irate.
His wife covered his knee with her hand. "Maybe it's just a shooting range?"
"In the middle of the city? And every time that… man visits Ms. Hawkeye?" He gave her a look. "And it sounds like she's gone through quite a few rounds, more than last month…" he mused.
His wife sighed. "Dear, if I knew how to shoot when I met you, you'd be dead."
She smiled at him as his mouth fell open, falling asleep to the sound of hurried apologies and gunshots.