Just couldn't resist posting this ridiculous story about young!Gracia eyeballing Maes. I think it's too cute -- but then, I wrote it, so I would. ^_^;;
Set in my AU "1950s-think-Chocolat-sort-of-'verse" where the Catholic Church rules Europe (just like IRL! Gasp!) and Father Roy Florian Mustang is going to change the world using its influence.
It was a downright waste, that's what it was. Gracia watched the seminarians move through the bookstore, the large glass windows making it easy for her to keep an eye on them as she polished the cafe's counter, and sighed. Maes looked so handsome standing there in his cassock. It was a silly dream, of course. He only came in every other morning because he liked coffee. He was going to be a priest, he couldn't possibly like her. It was just...
There wasn't anyone like Maes, that was all. He was, for lack of a better word, perfect. And she liked seeing him so much --
"You've gotta stop leaning over the counter like that," Rachel said, coming up alongside her with a tray of pastries. "You'll smudge the glass."
"I know. Rache, is it wrong?"
Rachel pushed an auburn strand of hair out of her face, huffing. "Is what wrong?"
"Love~"
"Oh, please." Rachel rolled her eyes, but she was grinning as she set the tray down. "Someone finally got your attention, huh? Who was it? Mack, from the grocers? Alex? Don't tell me it was the newsboy --"
Gracia pointed across the street, where Maes was smacking some dark-haired man with a book. Rachel looked, squinted, did a double-take and gaped.
"Gracia Marie Enfield, you can't mean those priests."
"Priests in training," Gracia said, emphasizing the last word. "They're not priests yet."
Rachel stared. "You can't do that. You'll go to Hell."
"I don't know," Gracia said, still gazing out the window. "If God wants them, He'll make sure He keeps them, right?"
"Blasphemy," Rachel said, shaking her head. She arranged the tray, eyes off of her friend as if the mere sight of her might damn one for eternity. "Think twice about this one, Gracia. You don't wanna mess with guys who've decided to take up the cloth. They're too dedicated to have room for you in their lives. Plus, half the time, they're... well... you know. Funny."
Gracia pursed her lips, and at that moment Maes looked out the window. Catching sight of her, he waved enthusiastically, then smacked his poor black-haired partner again, gesturing toward the cafe. The friend put his book back on the shelf, shook his head, and they both disappeared from view. By her calculations, Gracia had exactly two minutes before Maes came through the door.
She combed at her hair with her hands and straightened her apron. "You think so?" she asked, wetting her lips and pinching her cheeks to give them color. "I guess we're about to find out."