AN: Extremely random Team Mustang shenanigans. Written for a lovely friend who's birthday is today ^-^
Bets and Baking
"I don't think you're giving me enough credit."
"Me? Or the entire squad, sir?"
Roy pouts as he crosses his arms and inspects the counter now coated in flour, "well, I can tell you now, no one asked you-or any of their opinions. My baking's...decent."
"Don't forget the butter, Colonel."
She'd been doing this all morning, watching and waiting for every moment to correct his simplest mistakes. It began when he'd forgotten the the lemons at the market, and after he began mixing things into the bowls. From then, the only thing that ensued were his constant complaints and Riza's attempts to hold back a laugh.
"I know what i'm doing. What man can't make something as simple as lemon squares?"
"Do you really want me to answer that?" Riza says, "besides, don't act like I haven't offered to help several times already."
"That would mean I lose the bet."
Of course. Cooking was next to unheard of for the colonel and anyone with an ounce of sense knew whatevr he could bring in for a meal was either ordered, or prepared by someone else's hands. This of course sparked a debate with Breda, who was soon accompanied by Falman, and Havoc and the others, and then waged an ongoiing bet that the one and only Roy Mustang couldn't even accomplish simple baking had he tried.
This bet in a small amount of time had only predictably caused Roy's determination to spike, and he bet every last cen he found in his pocket (which wasn't much) and led him to the market, and then Riza's home.
"If you ask me, the bet was won the moment you agreed." Riza smiles, and slides a hand up the length of his back and then down his arm to the spoon, before reaching with the other and adding the cup of butter. "Oven."
They wait a half hour and before long he gets antsy. Checking the oven every minute or so and leaning on the counters with a pout. "That'll show Breda. And he won't get a bite until i'm through."
He goes on long after the bars have cooled, and Riza grabs a knife and cuts them into pieces before shoving one into his mouth, "good?"
Despite her efforts Roy continues his rants only muffled by the lemon square.
"While completely ridiculous, I will admit, that is impressive, sir."
Once he finally stops, Roy manages to drive back to the office, proudly marching through the hall with the tray hugged rather tightly to his chest. By the time he reaches the door the rest of the team swarms and Riza pries the tray from his hands and sets it on a table away from the group.
"Well, well, looks like the good colonel shaped up." Jean smirks putting his hands on his hips, "How many of those central girls did it take to help you?"
"More than you're capable of handling." Roy growls.
Breda pushes past the rest, ignoring the colonel's fumes and approaching Riza, "let's see the handy work, then. Chances are they're either bitter or too sweet. Personally, i'd go with the later."
"All yours Lieutenant." Riza says, stepping aside.
By then they all swarm, and with some taking seconds and thirds it's only a matter of time before the tray is empty aside form aside a square.
"Well, i'll be damned. It's actually good."
"There's no way…"
"Hawkeye had to have helped you."
"All thanks go to the chef." Roy says finally, striking a pose to express his pride.
Meanwhile, in the back Jean slides over, and Fuery and Falman lean into Hawkeye's ear, "how long did it take him?"
"All morning." Riza says quietly, and pushes three-hundred to them both, "and just as I predicted he forgot the butter."