Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any related characters.
A Dusty Brown Bottle
By: Antigone Rex
Summary: Vanessa always knew what lay hidden in the dusty brown bottle, secreted on the top shelf behind the bar. Royai Day Special.
A/N: I usually don't do this kind of stuff. I ordinarily try to make my stories somewhat clever and/or subtle. This fic is neither of these things. It is silly and gratuitous. It has no substance. We'll just call it a "writing exercise" that got way, way out of hand. I am almost ashamed I wrote this thing.
Almost.
Warnings: Bad language. Inaccurately Google-translated Chinese words. Non-explicit sexytimes. Unintentionally Drunk?Riza. Massively OOC. Many, many horizontal lines.
Vanessa was by no means a smart young woman. Indeed, she based her entire career on the fact that she somewhat lacked in intelligence. The type of men that paid for her services preferred their lady escorts on the vapid side. Sure, sometimes she made silly mistakes. She was no textbook genius. But (Vanessa assured herself with all the dignity she could muster) she was not stupid.
Besides, there were many types of skills. Vanessa, for example, was quite perceptive. She knew the subtleties of body language and the hidden meaning behind words. Men fell like open books before her, and she paged through them with an ease that oft drew the jealous gaze of her sisters. In short, Vanessa was good at reading people (and subsequently, playing people). She reveled in the simple sport of it. Her talents came in handy quite often, considering her profession.
And so, she knew within an instant of seeing them together that her adopted brother had a thing for his stoic female Lieutenant. More than a thing, really. The man was utterly besotted. And, after many weeks' careful observation, Vanessa decided the feeling was mutual. Riza Hawkeye was quite taken with her commanding officer in her own, quiet way.
Yet nothing happened. The infamous womanizer never made his move; the sniper remained in her quiet isolation. Vanessa and her sisters watched with growing dismay as the two soldiers failed, time and again, to act on their feelings.
Well, enough was enough. All the couple needed was a little… push. Vanessa always knew what lay hidden in the dusty brown bottle, secreted on the top shelf behind the bar: Liquid courage. Just the catalyst she needed to spark love's flame.
Two Years Earlier
Madame Christmas leaned heavily on the bar's lacquered surface, idly toying with the beads that hung from her neck. It was late in the afternoon – still some time before opening – and she was waiting for the newest shipment of illicit goods.
She heard the familiar jangle of the bells that hung over the front door. Christmas sighed, not even bothering to glance at the visitor. "You're late, Chuck."
There was a pregnant pause. "We meet again, Madame Christmas." The voice was soft and female – decidedly not Chuck-like. Christmas looked up to see a buxom figure she knew far too well.
"Oh. It's you, is it?" Christmas rumbled. She and the young woman had a long and sordid past, but it would take more than the unexpected arrival of a former business associate to fluster the Madame.
"It is."
"I didn't expect you to return, after what happened."
The young woman shifted uncomfortably. "To be honest, nor did I. I am still finding feathers in places I would not care to admit."
Christmas' garishly painted lips curled into a smile. She remembered the events that led to their last parting all too well. But the unfortunate mishap was a story for another time (*). "What brings you here today?"
"I have come to pay the debt I owe you."
Christmas eyed the small, silken bag in the young woman's hand. The sides bulged mysteriously. "Is that so? I was under the impression that… How did you put it?" Christmas tapped a painted finger to her chin. "Ah yes. You said something along the lines of: 'There is no way in hell I will ever repay you, you old, washed up, cheap-ass whore.'" For an instant, Christmas' gaze turned sharp. Serious. Deadly. A remnant of a hard-earned past. "You know, I don't take kindly to being called cheap."
If the young woman was unnerved by the Madam's veiled threat, she showed no sign. Instead she fixed the elder woman with a steely, dark-eyed gaze. "I always repay my debts," she said firmly.
Chuckling, Christmas beckoned with one ring-encrusted finger. "Let's see it, then." The young woman boldly approached the bar and set the bag on the counter. It hit the wooden surface with a solid thunk. Madame sighed. "Well? Open it."
The young woman reached forward and the scarlet silk fell away. It revealed a nondescript brown bottle.
Christmas snorted. "Liquor? As you can see, I'm already flush." She waved a thick hand at the bottles that lined the shelves behind the bar. "I have no need for your Xingese spirits."
"It is not just alcohol," the woman spat. She sounded horribly offended.
Christmas was not sorry. Not in the least. "Yeah, yeah. I've heard that one before."
"It has very… special properties."
"So does whiskey. You think I'm impressed?"
"Properties that might be useful to one in our… profession, in particular."
Chris Mustang leaned over the counter on two bejeweled hands, her expression guarded. "I'm listening."
She was not the only one listening. Unseen by either woman, Vanessa peered between the slats of the banister.
This sounded interesting.
Present Day
Riza sighed as she walked into Madame Christmas' chateau. It wasn't that she didn't like coming here – the tavern was actually quite cheery despite its rather drab exterior. It was just that… she would rather be somewhere else. She and the Colonel arrived in Central several days ago to complete their annual performance review; they planned to take a late train back to Eastern HQ tonight. To Riza's dismay, Mustang asked her to meet him at his Aunt's establishment, citing a need to 'take care of some last-minute business' there. Riza assumed it was something off the books, given the setting. Neither the Colonel nor his foster mother was one to sit in idle banter.
She was surprised to see a young woman situated behind the bar. "Tending drinks tonight, Vanessa?" Riza asked curiously. Paul, the regular bartender, was conspicuously absent. The man had an imposing presence with his thick muscles and numerous tattoos. He was not an easy one to miss.
"Madame and Paul are outside teaching a guest some manners," Vanessa replied with a cheeky wink. The young woman puffed with self-importance. "I'm watching the bar 'till they get back." She gestured to a stool. "Won't you please have a seat, Miss Hawkeye?"
Christmas' girls still called Riza by her non-military title – an artifact from the time Mustang studied under her father. In his few letters home, Roy always referred to her as "Miss Hawkeye." It was a formality the Master insisted upon if the young man was to live under the same roof as his very young – very innocent – daughter. Riza had to admit the endearment was kind of adorable: a small remnant of her too-short youth.
Vanessa pulled out an empty glass and set it on the table, but Riza waved it away. "Thank you, Vanessa, but I shouldn't. I'm supposed to drive the Colonel to the train station tonight and I -"
"Oh please, Miss Hawkeye, it would mean so much to me if I could pour just one drink." The pout that graced the young woman's face was positively professional. "This is the first time Paul has trusted me behind the bar."
"Well… I don't -"
A bright look blossomed on the young woman's face. "And I have something special, just for you!" Vanessa skipped away and reached up to the highest shelf behind the bar. She returned with a dusty brown bottle.
"We call this drink yètǐ yǒngqì," said the young woman.
Christmas cocked her head "Yètǐ yǒngqì?" Her lips stumbled clumsily over the Xingese word.
"It means 'liquid courage.'"
"And what exactly does this… whatever… do?"
"Call it what you will: a philtre, an amative, a warmpole, a – "
"An aphrodisiac," Christmas finished. "I should have guessed. Come now; call it by its real name: nostrum. You and I both know those things are just snake oil."
The young woman eyed her seriously. "I assure you this draught does what it claims."
Christmas did not hide the boredom in her voice. "Honey, believe me when I say I have heard this pitch a hundred times."
The young woman's mouth set in an irritated frown. Regardless, she pressed on in the hopes of enticing the Madame. "The properties of yètǐ yǒngqì are quite singular. The first thing to know is that it is absolutely - "
Delicious. It was quite possibly the most delicious thing Riza ever drank. It tasted like goddam honey and sunshine. How was that even possible? Riza peered suspiciously at the nectar. It was a beautiful amber color, just slightly lighter than her eyes. Stealing a furtive glance to either side, Riza took another sip.
"It is important to know that this drink is delectable. Your customers will want more. They will demand it. But they should never drink too much – no more than a shot."
Madame Christmas cocked her head. "What happens when you drink too -"
"Bad things."
"Another glass, Riza?" Vanessa offered.
Riza opened her mouth to refuse. She was supposed to chauffer Mustang tonight, after all. But now eyeing the innocent-appearing brown bottle, the prospect of another drink did not seem so wrong. She had an unusually high tolerance; she was known to drink Breda under the table on occasion. Alcohol hardly touched her. Her stoic countenance earned her quite the reputation while at the Academy.
And so, when proffered with a second round of such a delicious draft, she relented. There was no telling when Mustang would finally arrive. Certainly no sooner than an hour, she reasoned. She had enough time for just… one more drink.
Riza nudged her glass forward. Vanessa poured, a secret smile slowly forming on her lips.
"You will begin to see its effects within half an hour or so," the young woman continued. "First, you may notice your customer get a bit -"
Warm. Riza felt strangely warm. She lifted her hands to her face; her cheeks felt flushed. That was unusual. She pushed the remainder of the drink away. Clearly she had passed her limit. She was probably not safe to drive. She resolved to give the Colonel the car keys once he arrived. How embarrassing.
After a moment, she realized she was not simply warm. She was –
" – hot," finished the young woman.
"Hot." Christmas deadpanned.
"Yes. Hot." She paused thoughtfully. "In fact, you might want to send them to a more… private area at this point."
"And why is that, exactly?" Christmas drawled.
"What does anyone do when they get hot?"
Riza loosened yet another button on her blouse, wondering idly why Madame Christmas kept her bar so hellishly warm. Surely it could not be good for business. Maybe it was to keep the girls from catching a chill. They did wear terribly skimpy outfits. Riza was grateful she wore her civilian clothes tonight rather than her heavy woolen uniform. She glanced at her impromptu bartender. "Vanessa, would you be so kind and damp the fire?"
The pretty girl blinked. It was a pleasant spring night – far too warm for such things. The hearth lay flameless and bare. "But Miss Hawkeye…" Her eyes widened as the older woman undid yet another button and began fanning herself with one hand. Though no stranger to the womanly arts, Vanessa had never seen the reserved Lieutenant behave in such an unseemly manner. Apparently, the brown bottle was doing its job.
Now Vanessa just needed her brother to arrive.
"The next thing you may note," continued the young woman, "is a… loosening of inhibitions."
Riza caught herself humming again. Nothing in particular: just a lilting, wandering tune. It struck her as strange – she hardly ever sang. But she did not dwell on the thought. Indeed, she felt wonderfully carefree.
Her cheeks were still quite flushed, but she no longer suffered from the overwhelming heat that once plagued her. Now she only felt dull warmth just below her navel. It was a nice feeling: comfortable and kind of exciting, like she was about to embark on an adventure. A giggle escaped, unnoticed, from between her lips. She glanced at the glass that had somehow made its way back to her hand. It was inexplicably empty. When did that happen?
The door bells jangled. There was a collective squeal from the women of the house. Colonel Roy Mustang had finally arrived. He exchanged brief greetings with each of his sisters in turn as they helped him out of his jacket.
Roy expected to find Riza in her usual position: standing near the door, arms crossed, mouth fixed in a semi-permanent frown. He expected her to comment on his tardiness – for forcing her to wait alone in a barely-legal gentleman's club. He expected some kind of reprisal.
He never expected to see her sitting at the bar, twirling an empty glass between her hands.
Perhaps this boded well for him; a little alcohol might soften the inevitable onslaught. He approached her cautiously. "I'm sorry I'm late, Lieutenant. Hughes was a bit more forceful with his pictures than I –" He froze. Something was not right.
There was a stray lock of hair at the nape of her neck.
Hawkeye was a fastidious dresser: everything placed just so. She rarely appeared disheveled, even after long nights at the office or intense clashes on the battlefield. The misplaced lock represented something wrong: an unhinging. His suspicions were confirmed when Hawkeye rose from the stool and turned to face him. Roy's jaw slackened as he took in the undone blouse, the ridden-up skit. He struggled to keep his eyes where they belonged.
"L- Lieutenant." He cleared his throat as he accidently on purpose glanced at the ample cleavage she displayed. "Are you… are you quite alright?"
"Of course, Sir," she said simply, her expression quizzical. She leaned one arm lazily on the surface of the bar. "How can you stand wearing that woolen suit in this heat?"
Mustang frowned. There was definitely something off, he decided. Her eyes were far too bright, her posture too loose and informal. As for the temperature... it was a pleasant night. Not hot in the least. "Have you been… drinking, Hawkeye?"
Riza's lips spread into a wolfish grin. "Yes," she said unabashedly.
Roy blinked at her uncharacteristic bravado. "How many drinks have you had?"
"Two," she said, almost defiantly. But her half-lidded eyes told another story.
Roy looked over her shoulder to peer accusingly at Vanessa. His sister just gave him a wink, a nod, and a hand gesture he did not entirely understand. How disquieting.
Roy knew he had to act before this got out of hand. Riza would never forgive herself if she did something embarrassing while under the influence. "Come on, Lieutenant." He firmly took Hawkeye by the shoulders to lead her out of the room. It would not do to make a scene. As he guided her up the stairs, he wondered what exactly Hawkeye had to drink.
"It will not be long before certain… amorous tendencies emerge."
"Are you sure you're alright, Hawkeye?" They were now on the second floor, just outside the door to his old room. The Lieutenant had mounted the stairs with ease – no signs of drunken stumbling or staggering. It struck Roy as odd.
"I'm fine… sir." The last word sounded strange: Half purr, half croon – all wrong.
"But… your shirt…"
"I felt hot."
"You mentioned that." He reached forward to lay his palm on her forehead. Riza closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, clearly enjoying the feel of his hand. Roy had to clear his throat again. "You do feel a little warm, Lieutenant. Are you ill?" That had to be it. It was the only explanation. "Do you need to lie down? Lieutenant?"
Riza did not answer. She simply stood: eyes closed, cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. She looked positively… delicious.
Roy snapped his fingers in front of her face to get her attention. "Hey. Lieutenant." Riza slowly opened her eyes. She stared curiously at Roy's hand, still hovering before her. Then her expression became strange – almost predatory. With startling speed, she took hold of his wrist.
Roy was not exactly sure how it happened. One moment, his Lieutenant stood holding his wrist and staring fixedly at his hand. The next, Hawkeye had pulled it towards her mouth and wrapped her lips around his index finger. And then the impossible happened: His stoic, fastidious, stern lieutenant was sucking – sucking! – on his finger. Her tongue worked against it in the most distracting way.
"Kuh." It was the only sound he could manage, given the circumstances. He tried to gently pull his finger from between her lips, but he froze when her eyes caught his. The ochre orbs hovered just over the edge of his palm; hunger swirled in their heady depths. Her gaze fixed him in place. He stared, dumbfounded.
Now he was feeling a bit warm.
"Yes," she mumbled against his skin.
Roy struggled to concentrate as her tongue grazed the pad of his finger. "Y- yes, what?"
Riza's lip curled into a smirk. She slowly drew his finger from her mouth. It came out with a soft pop. "Yes Sir, I do need to lie down."
"And nature can take care of the rest," said the young woman. She made an explicit gesture to make her meaning absolutely clear. Her eyebrows rose speculatively. "Well? Will you accept this as payment for my debt?"
Madame Christmas eyed her, mouth working as though trying to pry a piece of gristle from her teeth. "Do not insult my intelligence. There's something you're not telling me about this drink."
The young woman squirmed slightly under the Madame's piercing scrutiny. "Perhaps."
"Out with it, then."
"There are… problems that may occur if too much is consumed."
Christmas smiled ruefully. "Of course there are."
Riza felt limitless, unhindered by the rules of society she once obeyed. For the first time, she was free to show Roy how she truly felt: How much she cared for, loved, and wanted him. Why had she waited so long? What was she afraid of all this time?
She took his hand and tugged him gently towards his bedroom. She had to chuckle at the fascinated, almost childlike wonder on his face as he tentatively followed.
"You might see an… enhancement of certain qualities."
"What do you mean, enhancement?"
The young woman shrugged. "If the person is prone to anger, they will become enraged. If the person is prone to sadness, they will become tearful. If the person is prone to aggression…"
"So their personality traits will be stronger." Christmas summarized.
"Take off your pants," Riza commanded crisply.
"Wh- what?" The words were foreign, but Roy recognized the Lieutenant's tone. Breda (when he was absolutely sure the Lieutenant was out of earshot) referred to it as her "bossy voice." She used it when she wanted a document completed immediately or when the boys were being particularly petulant about their work. The tone was absolutely domineering. It brooked no argument. Riza spoke in this manner nearly every day.
Roy hesitated, uncertain what to do.
With an impatient sigh, Riza pulled a gun from seemingly nowhere. She trained it on Roy, her aim steady. "You heard me."
"Lieutenant… er, Riza, what – ?"
Bang.
The bullet whizzed somewhere past his left shoulder. Roy yelped as he felt a soft breeze graze his cheek. He stared disbelievingly at his heretofore dutiful lieutenant. "You shot at me!"
"I did." She smirked. "Now, Colonel. Strip."
"The thing is that yètǐ yǒngqì does not affect coordination. If anything, it enhances strength and dexterity. So if the enhanced personality trait is aggression… well… You get the picture."
Roy began to slowly unbuckle his belt, his fingers trembling. He had never, ever been so simultaneously terrified and aroused by a woman in his life. What the hell was this? Just what exactly had Vanessa given her?
Riza's eyes scrutinized him over the barrel of her gun. Her foot tapped impatiently, and she shook her head. "Not fast enough."
She moved before he could react. Roy yelped as Riza deftly swept his feet from under him. He fell backwards onto the surface of the bed with a solid "Oof!" In a heartbeat, the lieutenant was on top of him, her knees firmly straddling his hips. She tossed her gun carelessly to the floor and leaned forward with her hands on either side of his head.
She hovered over him, her breath tickling his face. "That's better," she purred.
Roy's hands reflexively fluttered to her hips. His palms fit them perfectly, like they were made to rest there. It all seemed so impossible, so unreal. He had dreamed of this – being with her – so many times, but never imagined it would happen. Not before he became Fuhrer, at least.
For a long moment, he weighed his options. What if they actually…? Things would change between them forever. And she was clearly inebriated. What is right for him to…?
"Oh, what the hell," he growled. He leaned up to capture her lips in his.
Riza responded with gusto.
As his hands deftly slipped below the hem of her skirt, Roy wondered vaguely why Riza's mouth tasted so delicious. Like ambrosia. Like nectar. Like goddam honey and sunshine.
"Lastly, there is… one more property I should mention," the young woman hedged.
Christmas smiled wanly. "Only one? You're sure now? Just one more?"
"Hurry," Riza urged between kisses. "Roy, hurry." Her fingers scrabbled at the buttons of his shirt.
Roy grasped her hands in his. "No." Like hell.
Like hell would he 'hurry.' He would not be rushed. He had been waiting for this moment for too long. There was no way he would 'hurry' anything – no matter how eager she was. Besides, he prided himself on his lovemaking skills. As one of his sisters phrased it, 'he knew his way 'round a woman's skirt.' He had it on good authority that he was quite talented in the art of foreplay. These things took time.
Hopefully a long time, in this case.
He rolled the two of them over, so that he hung above her. He pinned her wrists securely against the bed and began to trail slow, teasing kisses down her neck. His knee slid up along the inside of her thigh.
She squirmed below him, her breaths coming in soft pants. "Hurry," she begged.
"The effects of yètǐ yǒngqì wear off precipitously."
"Meaning…?"
"In your terms?" The Xingese woman asked scornfully. "One minute you are making love, and the next…"
"Riza?"
Roy was not sure what happened. Things were going so well. He had kissed his meandering way to the tops of her breasts. His fingers had just begun an exhilarating exploration in the recesses of her blouse. For her part, Riza seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself.
Then, suddenly, the Lieutenant went completely limp.
Roy shook her gently. "Riza?" She did not stir. Instead she lay toneless, eyes closed peacefully, breaths coming in soft puffs as though she were…
Roy sucked in a breath.
She couldn't be… Was she…?
No, it wasn't possible.
Had she… fallen asleep?
'Wounded' could not even begin to describe the state of his pride at the moment.
Madame Christmas' booming laughter filled the bar. "They pass out?" The young woman cringed, clearly embarrassed. "So let me get this straight: You have a miraculous love potion that will make my customers strip naked, throw themselves at the nearest available target, possibly attack them, then pass out in the act of making love?" She laughed again, holding the stich in her side. "How could I possibly refuse?"
"It could act as an… ice breaker," the Xingese woman said timidly.
"Another problem that can be cured with whiskey, my girl." Christmas pushed the brown bottle away. "Nice try."
"Will you not… just… please take it?"
Christmas' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why? It won't count towards your debt to me."
"I… I…" the young woman stammered.
"Let me guess. This potion is illegal in Xing. You need a place to keep it."
Her averted gaze and shifting feet were answer enough.
"I see." Madame shrugged. "Against my better judgment, I'll hold it for you. I need some collateral on you anyway. In case you ever get the stupid idea that you don't want to pay me back. Realize, though, that your debt to me is increased twofold."
The Xingese woman opened her mouth as though to argue, but then apparently thought better of it. She nodded curtly and turned to leave with a soft swish of silk. She had nearly reached the door when Christmas' voice halted her.
"Oh, and Suyin – "
The young woman stiffened at the sound of her own name.
"If you ever try to pull something like this on me again, you will be sorry."
Suyin nodded, not bothering to look back at the Madame – a woman well-respected even in the underworld of faraway Xing. She exited the chateau, back straight and chin high. From her hiding place, Vanessa could see the telltale sheen of nervous sweat on the young woman's brow.
Vanessa's eyes darted toward Madame Christmas. The older woman let out a gusty sigh before placing the bottle deep in the corner of the highest shelf of the bar, behind the other flasks of liquor they never used. Vanessa heard the Madame mutter something about "idiot girls that never learn their lesson" before she disappeared into the back room.
Months passed after Suyin's departure and dust slowly collected on the brown bottle (still secreted on the top shelf behind the bar). Being a rather vapid girl that lacked somewhat in intelligence, Vanessa eventually forgot the particulars of the conversation she overheard while hidden behind the banister. And truly, did all those details really matter? Vanessa knew the essentials: The brown bottle held liquid courage. It was a love potion – the perfect ice-breaker. Whoever drank it would make love with her heart's desire
Vanessa swooned each time she thought of the possibilities. And today (finally) the brown bottle had proved its worth: It united two people Vanessa secretly hoped would wed the moment she saw them together.
She could not help it – she was a hopeless romantic.
Vanessa pressed her ear against the door to her brother's room. It was silent inside – a sharp contrast from the loud grunts and bangs only minutes before. She smiled. By now, the deed was done: Miss Hawkeye and Roy, together at last. The other girls would be so thrilled.
Vanessa pushed away from the door and pranced down the stairs. She loved playing matchmaker.
Casting a quick glance around to ensure Paul had not returned, Vanessa placed the brown bottle back in its place on the top shelf behind the bar. As she flounced away to her first gentleman caller of the evening, she blew the container a grateful kiss.
Roy would have to thank her in the morning.
(*) Note: Some that have read my other work, Reverberations, might recognize the young Xingese woman in this story. However, this fic is meant to be a standalone, so no need to read one to understand the other!
Happy Royai Day, folks!