author's note: And here I have another crack!Briggs one-shot. I hope you all had a great Christmas –– you've all been patient, wonderful readers and I couldn't ask for more. Lots of love. This is set pre-manga.

Title: Pink Tights
Genre: Humour
Rating: K+

Sometimes Colonel Roy Mustang's imagination got the better of him. He rarely assigned military personnel to do something this risky, but he was feeling a little pissed off towards a certain someone and a sense of revenge was in stock. After some persuasion he managed to get Führer Bradley to send Major General Armstrong down from the North, along with her two closest comrades.

Her tongue was sharp, and Roy, for a moment, wondered if she was going to disobey the King and skip back off to Briggs. However, to his surprise, she held her ground and agreed to this assignment. It was dangerous, but Olivier loved danger so it was a treat. Well, more or less. She wasn't too pleased she had to wear a dress and a scarf around her head. And to act vulnerable and ladylike.

Fortunately she had the advantage of her upbringing. Olivier knew the manners of a lady, and she was finally going to put her tricks to use. She rarely –– if at all –– used said "tricks".

Captain Buccaneer had trouble to hide his grin. He adored his commanding officer, but to see her in a dress was priceless. Major Miles was more stoic on the matter, yet he felt a lack of respect towards Colonel Mustang for putting her up to this. It couldn't be more obvious he had his own agenda for this assignment. Miles asked why he didn't want to use Lieutenant Hawkeye for this.

Apparently Roy had busied her enough, and sending another military woman to do this was out of the question. Seeing as Mustang was unfortunately a higher rank, Miles kept his mouth shut.

The assignment was to capture a disgusting group of men who had a habit of collecting women, and using them for their own pleasures. Olivier was far from thrilled to hear this, but the dress was pulled on as was the added makeup and ridiculously innocent expression. Her heels were small which was good (Olivier wasn't prone to wearing high heels), and the scarf she had to drape around her head was actually comfortable.

She almost screamed when she saw her reflection.

I look my youngest sister.

Mustang, Buccaneer and Miles were positioned on the top floor of a tall building. It was abandoned (at least to their knowledge), and had a fantastic view of Central below. Roy had gathered enough information on these swines so there wasn't any trouble in telling Olivier where to wait. A small transceiver was clipped to her undershirt, a wire trailing to her ear where a tiny earpiece was. It was hidden under her scarf so would go unnoticed.

With the binoculars, Buccaneer had a brilliant image of his female General. He wasn't very much attracted to her, but seeing her in the sweet and revealing dress he had to admit she wasn't bad. In fact the Captain almost felt the nerve to snap a photograph, but common sense got in the way.

Miles didn't mirror Buccaneer's awe. He was more concerned than anything, and wanted to kick Mustang where the sun didn't shine. Roy was grinning like a maniac. The Ishvalan frowned, and managed to not question him. Yet.

The Major General, however, wanted to die. She would rather go on a date with Roy Mustang than do this, and the date was less humiliating by only a bit. The dress was too girly. It clung onto her form, and ended just below her knees. She wore pink tights, and mumbled to herself, knowing Mustang was more than pleased to have a view of her legs. And even though they were small, her heels were impossible to walk in.

'Try and look happy.'

She snarled. 'Shut up, Mustang. I'd like to see you do better. In all honesty, I think you would. These tights would suit you more than me.' Olivier heard Buccaneer snort.

'I'm going to be honest with you: even a desperate bastard wouldn't notice you. You look like you're sucking on a lemon!'

'What do you want me to do?' She hissed through jarred teeth.

'Smile. Please. Just try.'

Olivier swallowed and felt a strange pull at her lips. Smiling wasn't her usual expression, but she was capable of it. Her eyes were bigger than she typically presented at work, and she managed to look quite. . . cute?

In fact, Miles caught himself having difficulty to look away. It wasn't right to see his Major General melt like this, and he felt a little irritated she now matched his type almost exactly. The cheeks –– a feature he secretly adored on a woman –– were more prominent and those eyes.

'I know,' Roy said beside him. 'You wouldn't think she had those curves.'

Miles narrowed his eyes. He hadn't actually noticed her curves. To the Major's surprise, Buccaneer was sniggering to himself. He threw him a stern look, before spotting a shiny black car driving in the Major General's direction.

Fortunately the Colonel and Captain spotted too.

'That's them.'

Olivier turned her head to the approaching vehicle.

'Cover your lips. They're. . . a very prominent and recognisable feature about you.'

The woman widened her eyes slightly, a tad surprised her Major had the guts to inform her this. However she took in his wisdom and raised her scarf to cover her lips. She didn't know how to feel when the car began to slow down.

'These people are desperate,' she whispered. 'You don't have to do anything and they're––'

'Stop talking.'

Her large blue eyes rested on the man who rolled down the window before her. He was actually all right looking, not that she was interested. His thick, brown hair flowed in the silent breeze and his green eyes were captivating. When he smiled a dimple showed.

Olivier blinked, and took a small step back. Act pathetic and innocent.

'Hello, sweetheart. You all alone?'

No, as you can see I've got a crowd with me. Olivier dropped her gaze. 'I've been waiting for someone. They haven't arrived yet.' She heaved a sigh and looked down the road. 'I don't think they will be arriving actually.'

'Aww, you poor thing. You must be cold.'

Score! 'Yes.' Olivier's toes curled when she realised how sweet she sounded. 'I. . . I am quite cold and even a little lost.'

'You want a lift home?'

'I live quite faraway, mister sir.'

'Mister sir?. . . What the fuck?' Roy whispered. Olivier ignored the roar of laughter from her Captain and the bastard Colonel.

'Don't worry, sweet cheeks.' Olivier tensed. She wanted to burn him. 'I can take you home.'

The General smiled and nodded. Whilst she walked to the passenger seat she muttered a threat towards Mustang who was currently pissing himself. Hopping into the car she was hit with a strong smell of cigarette smoke. Olivier coughed lightly.

'Sorry honey. My buddies like to smoke.'

Call me "honey" again, you'll be the one smoking. 'I–– I'm not very accustomed to the drug.'

'Clearly.' The man smiled and craned his neck. 'Why are you hiding such a pretty face under that scarf?'

Olivier put on a nervous tone. 'Oh, I–– I. . . I'm just cold, sir.'

He brought his finger towards her face and was almost about to peel away the scarf when Olivier lightly tapped his hand. He flinched, grinned and returned to face forwards. That could have been my sword, buddy. You'll be grateful. 'Let's take you home, sweetheart.'

'H–– How do you know where I live?' Olivier felt like throwing her earpiece out of the car. Buccaneer and Mustang laughing all the time was starting to annoy her.

'I know things, baby.'

Baby. You son-of-a-bitch. 'Oh. Okay.' It was painful to accept his dumb excuse. She sat back into the seat and he started the ignition before driving away.

Miles remained watching the vehicle with his binoculars, and was thankful the man didn't drive too far away. He parked a couple of miles ahead, outside an okay-looking flat.

'Sir, I've got his position,' Miles whispered. 'I'll be with you shortly.'

Olivier had heard him but didn't respond. You'd better be quick. She exited the vehicle and sent her eyes up the flat. She hadn't been in one of these for years and a couple of haunting memories returned to her. The man suddenly placed his hand onto her shoulder, which reminded Olivier she shouldn't actually be here.

'Hold on, mister, this isn't my home!'

'Don't worry. I thought as it's so late you should have something to drink.'

'I'm not thirsty.'

'You look it.'

Olivier looked at him, and he pulled at her cheek.

'Why not remove that scarf of yours, honey?'

'No thank you.'

'It's warmer in here.'

He tightened his grip around her shoulder. Due to years of training and her natural lifestyle, the commander almost attacked. She was more than capable of knocking him out cold. He escorted her up several floors, before reaching his door. Olivier noted the number, lowered her chin and muttered it.

The man pushed her inside. The blonde was welcomed by two other males, and they weren't as charming. Olivier was soon surrounded by all three.

'You want a drink then?' the brown-haired asked.

She turned to the doorway, and her heart dropped a little when one of them locked it. There was the window, but she was would only break a few bones.

Olivier was taken by surprise when one of the lads yanked her scarf and pulled her towards him. He sniggered and she unintentionally kneed him in the groin. At once his companion pounced onto her, slamming her face against the floor. Olivier groaned slightly. This dress restricted her movements and she was slower than she would have liked.

Fuck you, Mustang.

It took her a while to realise Miles was screaming down her earpiece demanding what was going on. Olivier wasn't able to reply though when the man who pounced on her turned her over and pinned her hands to the floor. He straddled her, and Olivier had difficulty to move. She couldn't do anything in this stupid dress.

The trio laughed at their prize. Olivier watched the man on top of her and when he looked away she head butted him. He wailed and she pushed him off, before struggling to her heeled feet and ducking from a blow. Her earpiece smashed when one of them whammed his fist into her face. Olivier buckled a little, and searched for her gun. She found it and quickly shot towards her approaching attacker.

Unfortunately she didn't have bullets on her. They were tranquillisers. She would have loved to slice these bastards in half. To her dismay she watched as four other males appeared from a nearby door. Olivier frowned, wondering what was inside the room. Possibly their stock of women.

All of them revealed a gun. Oh bugger shitting arse.

'Get down onto your knees, missy. Believe me this won't be the first time I'll say that.'

'You're revolting,' Olivier stated, before shooting the man straight in the head.

Bullets zoomed towards her. She ducked and swerved, tripping two men up. Olivier cursed to herself when she heard the dress tear slightly. Again she was restricted from moving. Three males grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, their hands roaming where they pleased. One of them started a little wrestling match with her gun. She kept a firm grip on it, and had trouble to breathe with these bodies pressed against her.

These guys need a mint. Bloody hell.

And then the door was smashed open, wood flying in different directions. All the men diverted their attention to their new visitors. Olivier watched in strange fascination whilst her Major charged inside and shot at whoever dared approached him. He headed straight for his female commander, closely followed by Colonel Mustang and Buccaneer. They both looked a tad sheepish.

Soon all the men were on the ground, either unconscious or surrendering. Miles was impatient and most pissed off, so he grabbed hold of Olivier's hand and literally dragged her out of the apartment, glaring daggers towards Mustang. Roy snorted, and allowed the Major to take Olivier away whilst he dealt with the rest.

'I hope you're all right, sir.' Miles' voice was forced and controlled. Olivier was aware he was raging a fire internally, but didn't question. Really she would have felt the same. The commander managed to pry her hand away from his. 'I tried to get Mustang's butt moving but he wouldn't take heed until we lost communication with you.'

Olivier was a little amused with her subordinate's temper. 'What was Buccaneer doing?' Miles didn't answer.

The Major General smiled a bit and finally removed her scarf. She sighed heavily.

'It was exhausting acting that stupid.'

Miles grinned.